


The Mercy of Death

by oooknuk



Series: Mercy of Death [1]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Master/Slave, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 05:46:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 89,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10757958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oooknuk/pseuds/oooknuk
Summary: An AU set in that mystical land, Medieval Hollywood. Slave!Fic. Duncan meets Methos when the Ancient falls into Cassandra's hands. Then Kronos comes and the tables are turned.





	The Mercy of Death

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: Rape (m/m, m/f), Violence, Angst and rampant sentimentality. Abuse of the Gaelic tongue, and use of pet names past of the point of decency. 
> 
> My thanks to Quinn Harper for partial beta duties, and to Solo for Gaelic advice

I received the summons and made haste to my mistress' chamber. I have been in the Lady Cassandra's service for ten years, and in all that time, while I could never predict what mood she might be in when I arrived, one thing was certain - she did not like to be kept waiting. And her displeasure was not something any mortal - or Immortal - wanted to bring down on themselves. I noted that that she was smiling, although that was not in itself a good sign - her mood after she visited the slave auctions was always unpredictable. I bent low and waited. "Rise, Duncan." I stood, bowing my head as I did so.

"My lady."

"The slave market was fruitful today - I have brought you a new charge." I turned slightly at a sound behind me, and the feel of a new Immortal Presence. My fellow slave, Dawson, led a tall, thin man in chains towards us and forced him down to the ground. The new slave made no resistance nor sound. My lady fairly vibrated with excitement as she spoke. "His name _was_ Methos. Now you will call him dung, dog, filth - any abuse that comes to mind. This thing is the vilest creature to walk the earth, and before I am done with him, he will wish that he had never been born to cross me."

I recognised the blood rage in my ladyship's eyes and responded in as soothing and submissive a tone as I could. "What is my lady's pleasure with him?"

"My pleasure, Duncan? I have no pleasure with him, nor he from me any longer. First, we must ensure that he is properly restrained, and I will see to that myself. Then I will give you your instructions. Bring him," she said curtly to Dawson.

Dawson dragged the slave Methos upright. He was chained at neck, waist and ankle. Bone deep bruises were already fading on the pale skin, the palest I had ever seen. He looked at me with eyes the colour of earth, but his expression was opaque, not shifting even when he was cruelly yanked along and forced to follow my lady's path.

We came to the courtyard, where to my surprise, many of the household were assembled. Also, more to my displeasure than my surprise, was the fellow Caspian, a freedman, an Immortal and a pustule on the backside of the world, in my opinion. A fixture in the castle long before I came here, of the many things that I cared for not about my lady's house, he was the worst - a torturer and a sadist, used against enemies and friends alike. To him, a disobedient slave was sent when my lady deemed him or her too recalcitrant for my discipline, and too foolish to listen to my warnings of the consequences. Unfortunately, when Caspian had finished with them, they were usually useless for anything, and ended up being killed as a waste of food. There was little mercy to be found in the Lady Cassandra's keep, and what there was, was not found at her hand.

My lady took her seat in an ornate chair placed specially for her in the yard, and signalled for Caspian to begin. I realised that we were to be treated to a bloody spectacle, and the unfortunate Methos was to be the centrepiece. I wondered what he had done to deserve my lady's hatred, and pitied him for the Immortality which would allow Caspian free rein in his viciousness. There was a block of wood in the centre of the courtyard, and I wondered if Methos was to be publicly beheaded, before chastising myself for such foolishness. Beheading was too benign a fate. Dawson was bid to bring the slave over and to make him lie on his back, his feet near the block. My lady nodded to Caspian, who lifted one of the man's feet up on to the wooden block. Methos struggled violently. "Duncan!" my lady said sharply. "Restrain him."

Unwilling to bring her vindictiveness upon my own head, I hastened over, knelt and reluctantly forced him to lie still by pressing him down at the shoulders, my weight behind my hands. Caspian held the foot in a ruthless grip, then smashed his heavy smith's hammer down onto the shin, breaking the leg. Methos screamed, and I had to struggle to keep him still. He could no longer move the damaged leg for the pain, which was his torturer's intention. Now Caspian turned the elegant foot, its fine construction apparent even under the grime, to the side. I heard the choked off cry from my prisoner, and would have turned my head except I knew my lady would punish me for it. Caspian picked up an iron spike and rested it in the hollow of the Achilles tendon, above the heel. Suddenly, I realised his intention and felt sick to the pit of my stomach. He hammered it into the slave's leg, and again Methos screamed, his voice echoing around the silent courtyard. Caspian had to pull the broken leg to free the foot and its invader from the block, and Methos' body jerked uncontrollably. Then Caspian repeated the procedure - the smashing of the shin bone and the insertion of the spike - on the other leg, and by the end of it, my prisoner was limp under my hands.

"Caspian, he must be awake," my lady said petulantly, and the monster grinned. He scooped a ladle of water from the bucket he had beside him, and threw it over me and his victim. Methos roused, then whimpered from the pain of his still healing limbs. Caspian told me to make him stand, and when I would have protested to wait until the wretch's legs were at least sound, he gestured towards my lady's chair. He well knew that I, like all her slaves, feared the woman's wrath. Reluctantly I forced my prisoner to stand, and held him up, felt him shaking from pain and the weakness of his shattered legs. Caspian bade me to turn him, so I had to look into hazel eyes wet with tears of pain, and see the bloodied lips where he had bitten them. He winced as Caspian fixed, none too gently, U-shaped links to the bolts held by living flesh, and then attached a chain to these, hobbling the prisoner.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, but he showed no signs of understanding me, nor had he said a single intelligible word the whole time.

"Make him sit," Caspian ordered, and I lowered Methos to the ground. Caspian immediately grasped his arm and yanked it forward, so that his wrist lay on the block. I held on to him, knowing that what was to come would hurt just as much, and hoped he would see that I was trying to give him strength, not just restrain him. Caspian hammered a slightly smaller spike through the slender wrist, and I winced in sympathetic pain, but no sound came from my prisoner. I looked down, and his eyes were clenched tightly shut, tears leaking from them. His mouth was clamped so tight that his lips were utterly bloodless. I applauded his bravery but wondered how he had come to this pass. What could possibly justify such treatment even in Cassandra's twisted mind?

Methos suffered the piercing of the other wrist in silence too, but I had to stop him trying to cradle the injured members to him in reflex. It would have angered Caspian, and that, I knew, this man would not want. Bolts and chains were fixed, and Caspian made him kneel with his hands forced behind him.

The final torture was the worst, to my mind. My lady had come and stood by her new possession and addressed us all. "You see this filth before you? He has come to me, as I knew he must, out of simple justice. His crimes deserve punishment, and I am the hand that will deliver it. You will not speak to this thing. You will not listen to it, help it, or touch it. He is an abomination. But I know how persuasive he is, so I have asked Caspian to ensure he cannot use his lying tongue to persuade any of you to help him escape." She gestured to Caspian then walked away, back to her seat.

"Put him across the block, and hold him down," Caspian ordered, and I did so, wondering what the vile creature planned now. He took another spike, this time of steel, and longer and thinner than the others he had employed, with a needle sharp point. He pinched the skin at the back of Methos' neck, and the slave bucked under my hands. Caspian let go the skin and delivered a painful blow to the side of the prisoner's head. "Keep him still, damn you," he snarled at me, and I transferred my hands to the sides of the man's head. Again, Caspian pinched the skin, and this time, threaded the skewer through it, so it protruded to either side of Methos' neck. The man made no sound other than his breathing, loud and harsh, as he battled this fresh pain. "Make him sit up." The position threw Methos back onto his pierced ankles and he cried out before clamping his lips tight again. He refused to meet my eyes.

Caspian picked up a head harness of a type I had not seen before, and wished never to again. There was a sharp, long flat bit which he forced into the captive's mouth. The rest of the man's head was enclosed in a cage, and the whole thing was attached to the skewer in his neck. Methos' head was forced back down to the block, and the catches on the skewer were hammered shut, tearing the flesh slightly. The only way this hideous thing could come off would be by ripping the back of his neck out. To make it worse, the cradle was tightened with screws to sit snugly - too snugly - it was obvious, on the prisoner's skull. It looked, and was undoubtedly designed to be, excruciatingly uncomfortable. God knew how the wretch would sleep in it. "How will he eat?" I forced myself to ask, since the man could not open his mouth or speak.

"Maybe he won't," Caspian leered, but I kept up my steady gaze until he showed me how the tongue piece was attached. It could be removed completely if necessary. It was locked in place with a padlock.

"The key?"

Caspian ignored me, and instead attached a chain to a loop under the cradle, under the man's chin. He tugged on it, forcing Methos to stand and dragged him over to the lady Cassandra, before forcing him to kneel again. I followed reluctantly. "Very good, Caspian. Give me the key," she ordered.

He produced a small key on an elegant chain, which she placed around her lovely neck. "Duncan, this creature is your charge. You will bring him to my chamber before breakfast every morning. When I have done with him for the day, you will take him back to your room. Only you will feed him, or clean him or touch him. Anyone else who lays a finger on him will suffer what he has today, and worse," she said in a clear voice to the assembly. "Now return to your duties," she said, while making it clear I was to remain. The creature Caspian left also, to my relief.

"How shall I feed him, mistress?"

"I will give you the key, which you must return without fail. Bring him now."

I picked up the leash and urged him to stand. I had seen much cruelty since I was taken as a slave by this woman ten years ago, but what she had done to this man surpassed almost all that I had seen, horrified me when I had thought myself almost inured to all her cruelties by now. I supected it was only the beginning. I was sure the prisoner thought so too.

As I followed my lady to her rooms, I guessed that she had been looking for this man for almost as long as I had known her - perhaps even longer - which explained much that I had observed. She demanded first sight and first pick of every slave brought to the keep for sale in the market, insisted every prisoner be viewed by her, and every stranger had to come and make his introductions, on pain of death. But how had this man come to be here? He was no more a natural slave than I was, I would wager my life on it, and while I had been taken in battle, this one did not seem to be a warrior. A musician, perhaps, or a scholar. He didn't look much of anything at the moment, but his body was fair, and I felt there was intelligence behind the eyes - intelligence enough to know when not to struggle, and to feel the humiliation of slavery. I pitied him with all my heart, for he had entered Hell.

Our friend Caspian had been busy, I could see. There were newly installed hooks in the ceiling of my lady's bedroom, and in the floor, with chains attached. This shocked me, I confess it, since she never directly dirtied her hands with torture. "There, Duncan," my lady pointed. "Every morning, I want to wake and find him there waiting for me. You will bring him and fasten him and leave. I will summon you to take him away. But you can bind him in position now." Her eyes glittered strangely, and she licked her lips. God, I hated her then - we were nothing but things to her, I well knew, but this was vile. It went beyond punishment, or justice - she was taking her pleasure from the suffering of another, and cared not who knew it. We were in thrall to an insane witch, and there was nothing I could do about it, or for the unfortunate victim of her perversions.

I unfastened the chain binding Methos' wrists together, and raised his arms over his head. The chains from the ceiling hooks barely reached and I had to stretch him to secure him. The position of the ankle chains meant his weight ended resting almost entirely on the spikes in his wrists, his legs spread and giving virtually no support. It looked viciously uncomfortable, and as he was naked, demeaning as well. I wanted to leave. "My lady? Shall I go?"

"Not yet, Duncan. I want you to watch this. This thing likes to punish others publicly, so I shall return the favour. Keep out of my way."

She seemed to know so much about this man, but I could not imagine what could have brought this on his head. He stared at me, not meeting her eyes, and she seemed uninterested in his reaction to her words. I almost gasped when I saw what she had in her hand when she turned around - a wire flail, used only by Caspian as a means of executing some poor devil or other. Mortals could not survive more than a few strokes from it - it cut so deeply, and caused such intense pain, that most died from shock or blood loss in a few minutes.

I stepped back, and schooled my features into a mask of indifference. I had had a lot of practice at it over the years, working for this woman. When the first stroke fell, and the man screamed around the bit in his mouth, I felt that mask crack. It would be my death if Cassandra knew I felt any sympathy for this man, and I did not want to die for nothing, so I hardened my heart. I watched her strike him over and over, front and back, over his genitals, his legs, even over his feet. I wanted to retch, or block my ears, or run - anything to get the sight and the sound and the smell of what she was doing out of my mind. She did not stop until she had killed him, and the voiding of the man's bladder added pungency to the sickly sweet, metallic odour of blood in the room. "Take him down," she ordered carelessly. I unhooked him carefully and laid him on the floor. "Leave him. Find Dawson, and my maid. He can help you take him away."

I was glad to flee. My friend Dawson was waiting anxiously in the kitchen - he had expected a summons before this. "Do not comment on what you see, my friend, on pain of your life," I warned him. Dawson was a tough man, a former warrior fallen on hard times, but even he blanched when he saw the bloody heap on the floor. The ladies maid screamed, and Cassandra slapped her before ordering her to clean up the mess on the floor. We two men lifted the dead slave up before I remembered. "My lady? The key?"

She looked thoughtful, then handed it over. "Do not forget to return it - and Duncan, do not dally. Remember what I said."

"Yes, mistress."

We carried the slight, gangly body, covered in its own filth, downstairs to my small chamber. As senior slave, I had the privilege of sleeping alone until now, but it seemed I was to share my room until my lady wearied of the wretch and killed him. I wondered a little at this - I could only think the lady Cassandra thought the man needed guarding most strictly, but he was hardly in any shape to escape. We laid him on my bed for now - I would need to arrange a pallet for him. Dawson looked with pity upon the bloodied form with its hideous mutilations. "One of you?" he asked and I nodded. He was one of the few mortals who knew the secret of Immortals, and the only one in the castle keep. "Poor bastard," and I nodded again.

"Joseph, find me some water and cloths, and bring food. I need to clean him up and feed him quickly. And ask Richard to bring bedding for him - I don't fancy sharing with that," I gestured toward the mask trapping the dead man's head.

"How's he expected to sleep?"

"I don't know, and I doubt she cares. Quickly, Joseph, you don't want her ladyship to think you are consorting with him."

Dawson left. Methos was still quite dead, but the blue flickers of healing played across the many wounds. I didn't wait for Dawson to return, but began to wipe the blood off with the towel and ewer of water I had already. Better to do this while the man was unconscious to the indignity, I thought. I wiped the pale skin, noting that the smaller gashes had already healed. He would revive soon. I was used to the fact that Immortals looked much younger than their true age, but this one seemed so very young. Fully grown, but the skin was so unmarred and smooth. I wondered how old he really was - old enough to know the lady Cassandra before she lived here, I felt. She had been the ruler of his castle for hundreds of years, or so I was told.

I'd got the worst of the gore off the man before Joseph returned, and I exchanged the bloody cloth for a clean one, dipping it in the hot water and wiping the body down past the blood and the grime of the slave market. I tried to avoid touching the revolting spikes. I could only imagine the pleasure it had given Caspian to carry out that task. - the man had become erect before he'd finished. Methos revived as I finished, and gasped around the bit. I'd wiped blood from his face where the thing had sliced his tongue and lips. He jerked from the pain of reviving from death, and I placed a hand on his chest. "Easy, my friend. You are safe, for the moment." He gave me a wry look. "You understand our speech?" He nodded.

"Joseph, you'd better go." I didn't want him to be accused to talking to the prisoner.

"Richard will be along soon with the pallet, Duncan." I nodded and turned back to my unwilling guest. As soon as he was gone, I unlocked the hinge holding the tongue bit in place, and pulled the thing free. He worked his lips and spat blood on the floor.

"My thanks," he said in a raspy voice.

"They may be premature. Can you sit? You must eat quickly. My lady's patience is not limitless."

He looked at me as if to say he knew that, and I helped him sit up. I wondered if I should free his hands. "Will you give me your word if I unchain your hands, that you will not try to escape?"

"The word of a slave is valueless, Duncan." I started at the use of my name.

"My word is not valueless, Methos."

"But then you are no true slave, for you disobey your mistress already by talking to me. Leave me bound, man. Do not fight my battles for me." His refusal to make life a little easier for himself angered me, but I hid my feelings. I spoon fed him the stew and bread. I could tell he was very hungry. "Could I have some water? I am thirsty," he asked politely.

I helped him drink, and he told no lie. I had to stop and force him to take it slowly for fear he would be sick. "How long do we have?" he asked as he finished drinking

"Not long," I said staring at my hands. I thought of the life I had led since I had been taken as slave, how I had traded my green homeland for these stone walls, and years of subservience and cruelty. "I fear things will only get worse for you. Why does she hate you so?"

He gave me a long look. "She has reason. It is better you do not know it. Believe all she has said, and more, and your conscience will be the clearer for it." He closed his eyes to shut me out, and then rolled his shoulders. It was clear that he was cramping, and I knew it would only get worse.

We were interrupted by the young servant, Richard, who bore a sleeping pallet. His eyes grew round at the sight of the naked man in my bed but said nothing. I told him to put the bedding near the fireplace, and to leave. Methos watched him go with almost a smile on his face. "How can you be so calm?" I asked.

"Practice. Your mistress will be angry if you don't return the key."

I picked up the bit reluctantly. "Is there anything you want before I put this back in?"

"Some more water would be nice." I gave him another long drink and then he nodded. "I'm ready now."

I put the thing back between his teeth, allowing him to get it as comfortably as he could over his tongue. "I'm sorry," I said meaninglessly as I relocked it in place. He nodded again, as if to say he understood. "I will return shortly. You'll be locked in, but you can stay on the bed for now." He closed his eyes. I suspected he wasn't as calm as he pretended to be.

My lady was suspicious. "You were gone almost an hour, Duncan."

"I am sorry, my lady. There was a delay obtaining food and bedding..."

It was a mistake to mention it. "Bedding? The creature will sleep on the floor, do you understand?"

"Yes, my lady. May I ask...?"

"What, Duncan? I am busy." I was taking a risk.

"My lady - how long... I mean, surely you mean to kill him eventually."

She gave me a pitiless smile. "I will kill him when he begs me to take his head. Not before. Go on, you have your duties."

I seethed as I walked downstairs. How was that poor wretch to beg when he was gagged? Dawson saw my face, and I could not forbear from telling him what she said. "God, what a witch she is," he said quietly, for the walls had ears. I nodded.

"My lady wants the bedding removed," I said in a normal tone. "Please ask Richard to come to my rooms again after I return there."

"He has to sleep on the bare floor?"

"So my lady has ordered. Dawson, what have you for me to deal with today?"

I delayed my return to my chamber so that the prisoner might have an hour or so of peace on a comfortable bed before being turned onto the floor. Ordinarily, my lady would never come to my rooms, but such was her obsession with her new plaything, I would put nothing past her, and if she found I had disobeyed her orders, my life, and possible those of Dawson and Richard, would be forfeit. I would not risk them for an unknown, possibly criminal stranger.

The prisoner was asleep, lying awkwardly on his back with his hands behind him, when I returned. I woke him, sorry to have to bring him back into a world of hurt. He seemed momentarily confused but smiled briefly when he saw me. I wondered how he could smile at all in the circumstances. "The lady Cassandra orders that you must sleep on the floor," I said gently. He shrugged and sat up. I let him rest a moment or two, and then he stood, with help. I took him over to the fireplace, and he sat with his back against the wall. "I would not have it so, you must understand," I pleaded, and then I wondered why his good regard meant a thing to me. He just nodded and closed his eyes again.

I sat and stared at him for several minutes, unable to think clearly with such an abject picture before me. Richard's arrival to remove the pallet startled me. "Master Duncan, who is he?" the boy whispered.

"None of your concern, my lad, and you see that it stays that way," I said roughly. I did not want the boy's curiosity to bring him to grief. He took the bedding and left, clearly annoyed and still curious. I would have to speak to him later.

My duties included patrolling the castle and checking on the progress of the normal activities of food preparation, and repairs that any large household required. It would mean my prisoner would be left alone for several hours. "I have to leave you now, Methos. If you need to piss, here is the chamber pot." I hooked it out with my foot from under the bed. "And I would be none the wiser if you took advantage of the bed while I was gone." He lifted his head and smiled at me in amusement at my unsubtle hint. "If you are caught, you will pay the price, you know that." He nodded. One last thing, since my lady did not order it differently. I unbound his wrists and fastened them in front of him. "This will be more comfortable, I think." That surprised him, and the look was pure gratitude. "I do not know what you did to bring this on your head, my friend, but I cannot conceive of anything so horrible that would warrant this. My lady says she will kill you when you beg for it - I pray that she will let you do so sooner rather than later, for that is the only mercy you will get from her, I fear."

He looked at me, and nodded slowly. We both understood. I left him, and locked the door. I felt heartsick, but whether at the torture to come for him, or the inevitable death, I did not know.

My duties kept me from my rooms until after the evening meal. My mistress, fortunately, did not require my presence further that day, for I was not sure I could keep calm around her if she mentioned the prisoner. Methos was on my bed, I was sure, until I opened the locked door, because I found him tumbled in a heap next to it. "Fast enough this time," I said, as I helped him up and bid him sit on the bed again. I felt guilty that my stomach was full, and his was not. He was probably thirsty too, and I wondered if there was some way I could let him drink behind the gag.

He didn't look rested, and I doubted he could sleep with that cruel contraption on his head. I realised there was a way we might communicate, and I found paper, pen and ink. He looked in surprise at what I brought over. "Can you read and write?" I asked. He held out his wrists, and now I saw his hands were crippled over from the impalement of his arms. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise." I went to put the materials away, but he grunted to make me stop. I helped him over to my little desk and bid him sit - I was happy on the floor. "Are you in a lot of pain?" I unfastened his hands.

He shrugged, then took the quill and wrote awkwardly. His writing was hard to read, not that it was his fault. //It's endurable. You are taking a risk, Duncan.//

"Not much, not now. She will be asleep soon, she does not sit late."

//Why are you being kind?//

I scowled. "I wouldn't treat a dog like this. Even if she hates you, she should kill you or free you. Why does she hate you so?"

//Better you do not know. What is your name?//

"My full name? I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. You are simply Methos?" He nodded. He flexed his hands, and winced. I took his wrist and rubbed it gently. "Does that help?" He nodded again. "Can you tell me how old you are?"

He stiffened, and took his hand away. //Old as my nose and slightly older than my teeth.// I smiled at the joke. //Old enough to know better. You?//

"A hundred more or less. A child. Cassandra is very old?" A nod. "How long will you endure this?"

//As long as I have to.// His eyes were dark and unreadable.

"Why?"

//What choice do I have?//

I took his hand again. I didn't have an answer - I couldn't encourage him to ask for death, nor could I help him escape. "I'm sorry."

//You say that a lot, Duncan MacLeod.//

"Because I am."

//Not your fault. Mine. Cassandra's. You do what you have to do. I will survive, or not. I am not your problem.//

I scowled again and took the pen from him. It was time he rested. "Well, you're my guest for the moment. Is there any way you can get comfortable in that?"

He reached for the quill but I refused. He shook his head. I looked at the bed, and the floor. There was some risk that the lady would send Caspian or someone to check on the arrangements, so I equivocated. I told him he must sleep on the floor and he lay down flat on his back, the only position that damn skewer in his neck would allow. I startled him by placing my own pillow carefully under his head, trying to take as much pressure off him as possible. I covered him with a blanket from my bed and built the fire. There was little point in wishing him a good night, but equally I did him the small kindness of not reminding him of what must come in the morning.

I don't suppose he slept any more than I did.

Cock crow was, as usual, my signal to get up, but today I had an extra duty to perform. I used the chamber pot then I woke my sleeping companion. His face was fixed in a grimace, and I could see how the cradle cut cruelly into the flesh of his skull. That damnable Caspian and his vile tricks! I helped him sit - he was stiff and looked tired. "Do you need to piss?" He nodded and I helped him perform the task. Then I had to fasten his hands behind his back as Cassandra had last seen them. "Are you ready?" and even though it was he who faced the torture, my heart was beating fast. I didn't want to hand him over to my mistress to abuse. He simply shrugged, stood tall and gave me a smile and a nod, as if to say, get on with it.

I took him up the back way, the stairs difficult for a man on a short hobble. My lady's maid let me in and I took the prisoner to the place where the chains were. I fastened him in. "Very good, Duncan." Cassandra's voice took me by surprise. "Now leave us, and be about your business. I will send for you when I am done with him."

Never have I left a room with such a heavy heart, and before I reach the stairs, the muffled screams began. I clenched my jaw but went as usual to break my fast with Dawson and the other senior slaves. The talk was all about the stranger, which robbed me of my appetite. "I hear he was a raider," one of the women said. "And that he killed the lady's family and raped her."

"Where did you hear that?" I shouted, and the table fell silent.

"Ma... Master Caspian," Richard stuttered, confused by my uncharacteristic anger. "He... he said that the Lady told him herself."

"You haven't enough to occupy yourself, lad, if you have time to listen to Caspian's tales. I'll find something to keep you busy - and for now, you can start by helping to empty the privies." Richard flinched - he had long since been promoted past such a menial activity, but I was in a foul temper.

I left the kitchen in a black mood, and stalked about the castle, people running to escape me. Could it be true? Caspian was as evil as they came, but he wasn't a gossip - he wouldn't waste the time he could put into thinking up fresh mischief. But equally, he wasn't an intimate of Cassandra's - or was he? I realised how little of I knew of the torturer, who had been at the castle much longer than I. He might have known Cassandra long before she had ever been here.

It was noon before the summons came to collect Methos, and I was still angry when I entered the chamber, although I was careful not to show this to my lady. Methos hung, as before, by his wrists, covered in blood and piss. This time, he was alive, and I realised Cassandra had waited until he revived before summoning me. She motioned to me to unhook him. He would have fallen if I had not supported him. "He can stand, Duncan," she said harshly. "And walk. I want you to make sure you take him to your rooms through the main hall from now on. Let every one see him."

"Yes, mistress. Come on, dog." She smiled approvingly at my words. "The key, my lady?"

"Not today, Duncan." It was then I saw she meant to add starvation and thirst to her torments.

I dragged the weak man out none too carefully and he groaned at the strain on his arms and legs. The hall was full of people coming to their meal and all stopped and looked at our passage curiously. Methos seemed not to care that he was seen in this state, having as much as he could manage just to put one foot in front of the other. Despite my anger, I could see he was exhausted, and close to fainting by the time we reached my room. I dumped him on the floor and unbound his hands. "Here," I said roughly, pushing the bowl of water and the cloth to him. "Clean yourself. You stink."

He looked at me expressionlessly, then picked up the cloth in one crabbed hand and began to wash clumsily. I ignored him, making a show of being busy at my desk. A few minutes later, I looked over to see him clutching the cloth in one hand, head bowed, and his back shaking. Despite myself, I went to him and took the cloth away. "Let me, I haven't got all day to watch you." I cleaned him, and wiped the tears from his face, the blood from the holes in his arms from being forced to hang by his wrist too long. There seemed more blood than yesterday. "This was worse," I said. He lifted his head and looked at me sadly. He shook his head, but I knew he lied. This made me even angrier and I threw the cloth away. "Is it true?" I spat. "Did you kill Cassandra's family? Rape her?" Did this mild exterior, this gentle seeming man conceal a killer - was I nursing a viper?

He looked at me for a long time, then nodded. My heart was clenched with a cold fist of anger, and a little fear. "Why?"

He shrugged, and I nearly struck him. "I have work to do," I said coldly, and I left him where he knelt, locking him in.

I did not return all afternoon, until well after the evening meal. Dawson had words with me about my behaviour that morning, and I apologised, explaining what I had learned. "How long ago was this?" he wanted to know.

"What difference does that make, Joseph?" I asked him in irritation.

"Well, to my mind, a lot. If it was a week ago, my lady's anger is reasonable. Perhaps a year, ten years ago. But she had been in this castle, they say, for a thousand years. It seems a long time to carry a grudge."

"If he was capable of doing it then, he could do it now," I grated out.

"People change, Duncan MacLeod. You would not want to go bail for the things I did when I was at war. And my lady's past is none too lily white, I would wager."

"It matters not, Dawson. She is his owner, he is her problem."

"So why are you so angry?"

I refused to discuss it. "Good night, Dawson." I took my leave, and as I did, I saw my mortal friend shake his head in disgust at me.

Why did I care? I told myself it was shock - I had presumed the lady had no cause for her ill treatment of the prisoner, when in fact she had more than just cause. But in truth, even the revelations of the day did not really justify this extended sadism. No, I was angry with myself. I had been deluded that a soft pair of hazel eyes and a gentle voice bespoke a kindly soul and I was wrong. A fool. I wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

He was crouched on the floor, his forehead resting on the stones, when I came back in. I had forgotten to refasten the wrist chains and his hands were held across his bowed chest. He was obviously in pain. I made him sit up, and pulled his hands away from him. "Does it hurt?"

He shook his head and drew his hands close again. I guessed the prolonged hanging had moved the spikes and they were pressing on a nerve - we cannot heal from that sort of injury unless the foreign object is removed. I eased one hand away and he winced and moaned - it must have really been agonising. I massaged gently around the spike and into the cramped hand muscles. I could see him fighting not to make a sound, but then his body relaxed a little. "That helps?" He nodded. I took the other hand and repeated the process and he sighed, resting his head on his raised knees. "I will leave them unbound tonight - if you try to escape, I'll cut them off myself, do you understand?"

He nodded then lifted his head. I tried to tell myself that this was a rapist, a murderer, but his eyes were still gentle and kind, full of pain and weariness. Try as I might, I could not imagine him doing what he admitted he had done. "When next you speak, will you tell me about Cassandra?" He looked long and hard at me before nodding. I could have asked him to write, but it was something I needed to hear from his lips. Besides, his hands hurt, and I was not the sadist in this household.

I threw the dirty water out of the bowl, and refilled it with clean, bringing it to him. "My lady has not given me the key today. Can you drink from this?" Another little shrug - he would try. I held it and he immersed his face in it. I could hear him sucking it in around the bit. He lifted his head and water dribbled down his chin, but I could tell he had drunk a little. I topped the bowl up and let him drink as much as he would before he had his fill, then set the bowl aside. "I'm sorry, there is no way you can eat. Lie down." He did so obediently and I put the pillow and blanket down as the night before, then took his hands and massaged them again. "I don't know who you are, Methos. You have to help me understand." He gave me a little nod, then closed his eyes. He looked truly exhausted, and if he looked like this after two days, what would two weeks, two months, be like for him. It would be kinder to take his head myself.

The only variation the following day from what had passed before was that I was allowed to take the key with me. I had to haul Methos through the public area, his legs were giving him no support, and when I freed his mouth, he seemed too tired to eat. "You have to, Methos - she might not allow this for days. She's capricious."

"I know, Duncan," he said in barely a whisper. "Might be a kindness to let me starve."

"She'll kill me if you die that way. And others. If you won't eat for yourself, eat for me." He let me feed him then, although it was clearly an effort. I helped him drink then I stood. "I should return the key."

"You said you wanted to know about Cassandra," he said tiredly.

I did, but asking this exhausted, blood covered man to talk about such things seemed ridiculous. I touched his shoulder. "Later. There will be time. Do you want more water?" I gave him a last drink, and then refixed the bit. "Rest, I won't be long."

I hadn't intended to be, but my lady had other ideas, insisting I ride with her to see the planned new fields. I had my luncheon on the hoof and was given no time to think about the captive. We did not return until long after dark, and I was commanded to eat with my mistress, so we could discuss the coming autumn, and reinforcements against the twin threats of weather and our neighbours. I hastened to my quarters as soon as I was released, and cried out in anger at my stupidity. Methos was crouched, hands bound painfully behind his back, still covered in dried blood and worse. He had rested his head against the flagstones again and I realised that he was trying to relieve the constant pressure from the head cradle. "My God, I'm sorry," I said, hastily unbinding his wrists and his ankles for good measure. He fell forward into my arms, and when I lifted his head, his eyes were wet, and narrowed with the pain. I helped him into my chair, and quickly cleaned him, his head drooping from weariness. I laid him on the bed. "What hurts worst? Head or hands?" He raised a shaking hand to his skull. I sat behind him, and supported his head on my lap with a pillow, rubbing the areas of his head I could reach, trying to uncramp the pinched muscles. I wanted to tear the binding off his head, and tear Caspian's head off for good measure. I looked to see if I could undo any of the screws, but the fiend had used a special tool and I could do nothing with my bare hands.

"My lady be damned. You sleep here tonight." He didn't react and I was glad he did not. How could a man who had said barely fifty words to me have my emotions in such a tangle? I wanted to protect him, but I had to deliver him each morning to torture. I wanted to talk to him, but if I did, I would hear such things as I would not be able to forgive. God help me, I wanted to touch that lean body when it was free from pain, and the most I could do was relieve the smallest amount of the agony he was going through.

I eased him off my lap, settled him carefully on the pillow, and covered him gently with the blanket. In such a position, he had to raise his legs to take the pressure off the damn spikes in his ankles, so I got my winter cloak, rolled it, and put it under his knees. He sighed a little, and again as I lay beside him and took his hands in mine to rub carefully. The damage to his wrists was a little worse each day, and if my lady was not careful, her new slave would have his beautiful hands torn in half. Perhaps that was what she wanted but it made me sick to think of him being further mutilated. "Who are you, Methos?" I whispered. "I can't believe you deserve this." He made no answer, because he could not. I didn't think I wanted to hear it anyway.

A month of this, and I was giving shelter to a wraith. More often than not, Lady Cassandra withheld the key, and I thought often of my prisoner's words that starvation might be a kindness, as I watched the slow destruction of a human being. Even Immortals have their limits. He never spoke now, even when he could, and there was never again a chance to hold a conversation in writing - he was simply stretched too far for that. He would eat, if I coaxed him, but seemed no longer to really care. He was dying, that was the long and short of it, and I wondered if I could forge a note that the lady would believe, asking for his death. I abandoned that idea since I realised she wanted to hear him beg. I took him to bed each night, and each morning delivered him to Hell.

As Methos began to disappear, my lady seemed to thrive. She was more and more animated each time I came to collect her slave, her eyes more crazed. I began to entertain serious thoughts of killing her and making my escape with Methos, but that would abandon my mortal friends to the likes of Caspian, and that, I could never do. So I gritted my teeth, and endured, just as Methos did - because there was no other choice.

I was summoned to my lady's chamber one evening a month or so after Methos' arrival. "I am going to be away, Duncan."

This was a surprise. "My lady?"

She was more excited than usual, and her words spun out of her. "Yes, yes, I have heard.... None of your business." She stopped herself. "The dog, he endures, yes? You and he talk?"

"He never says a word, mistress." This was literally true - I wasn't sure he _could_ talk any more.

"Just as well, every thing he says is a lie. I was going to take him with me, show everyone... but Caspian said to give it to him," she rambled, and I had to strain to hear her words. "You will take him to Caspian in the morning, when he sends for him. Caspian will have the key. You will do as he says. Understand me, Duncan?"

"Yes, my lady."

"Do you think he is ready to die, Duncan?"

"I think he would ask for death, if you allowed it, mistress," I said carefully.

She laughed maniacally. "If I allowed it! Oh, I might, I might indeed, my young friend. But let Caspian have him, then we'll see,"

"Will he still be kept in my rooms, my lady?"

"Oh yes, that's important. You treat him well - don't deny it, it's your nature. That's why I gave you the job. It makes it much worse for him. In fact - here, have the key, for the whole night. Talk to him. Give the bastard hope. Then give him, and the key to Caspian. Do not fail me, Duncan."

"No, my lady." I forced my hand not to shake as it took the key from her. "Was there anything else?"

"No, Duncan. You know what to do. I will be back soon - in a week or so. Be off with you."

I left, puzzled and worried - never had she gone away with so little warning. The castle would run without her, but what if something happened and she did not return? And then there was Methos - to be in the hands of a sadist more dedicated than even my mistress. I was part of the punishment. I was ashamed not to have realised that before, but it was too late. It would make no difference to him now if I were kind or not.

I freed his mouth, and coaxed food inside him, more from habit than any thing else. When I did not replace the bit, he squinted at me. "What has happened?" he said in a raspy voice. His first words in over a month surprised me, and I had to give him the bad news. He received it in silence.

"Methos, let me take you up to her tonight - you can beg her for death, as she wants."

"She doesn't want me dead, MacLeod. She wants me to live like this forever. She will not rest until she has my soul." The words were spoken without emotion - I could not divine his thoughts.

"Because you raped her."

"No, because she fell in love with me. Then I gave her to another when he asked for her. She was my slave."

The news shocked me. "Did you treat her like this?" I asked in a tight voice. He reached for the water cup and drank again before he answered.

"No. This, at least, is something I have not done."

"But you said she had reason to do this."

"In her mind, yes. She lives in the past. I cannot change that. Nor can you, Duncan MacLeod."

"You cannot go on like this."

"I have no choice. Unless you want to take my head?" He looked at me sideways. I took a deep breath.

"Do you want me to?"

He shook his head slowly. "No. More for your sake than mine. But I still want to live. That might change after a while with friend Caspian."

"She said... she said you being with me was to make things worse. That I would treat you well to make the pain more."

He nodded. "She learned that from me."

"You're a monster," I said in horror.

" _Was_ a monster, Duncan. That was two thousand years ago."

The figure astonished me. "You are so old?" I whispered. I had no idea - his Quickening was strong, but not so very remarkable.

"Even older. I am four and a half thousand years old, MacLeod." Shocked, I dropped the hand I was unconsciously massaging.

"You can't be."

He gave me a tired, twisted grin. "Want to take my head now?"

"No, I do not. I don't understand - how can you have done what you did and be as you are now?"

"Things were very different then. Do not judge me by the actions of someone who no longer exists." He rubbed his hand against his temple and winced. "Perhaps Caspian will kill me. Anything would be better than wearing this for the rest of my life. I'm so tired, Duncan." I helped him lie down. "She's right. You do make it worse." He smiled a little as he said it.

"I'm sorry, Methos."

"Don't be. I am glad to have met you, Duncan MacLeod." Despite his pain, despite his exhaustion, there was real human warmth in his eyes, and I felt a tightness in my chest that threatened to burst it. On impulse, I bent and kissed him softly on his abused lips. He licked them when I freed him, and then coughed, in surprise, I think. "Why?" he asked finally.

"Because I think I cannot bear to lose you."

He took my hand in his crippled one. "We are in the hands of Fate, Duncan. Do not ruin your life for me - I am not worth it. Now sleep, Highlander. We have a long day ahead of us."

I lay beside him, wondering at the new name he had bestowed on me, and trying not to think of the perverted things Caspian would do to him. The taste of his lips lingered on mine. There had to be a way out of this hell - for both of us.

Caspian sent young Richard for us in the morning, a little later than I was used to rise although I had been awake for some time. I let Methos drink his fill and eat again before I refastened the bit and the chains. "Is there any thing I can do to make this easier for you?"

"In truth, no. But make no mistake, Duncan - you help me. I will not forget your kindness." His words were like a knife to the heart.

Caspian was our blacksmith as well as our torturer, so I let my captive to the stables. "Oh, so there you are. I've been wanting to have another look at my work." He looked over the head piece eagerly. "Getting loose, can't have that. Where is the key?" I gave it to him silently. "Run along, Duncan. Methos and I have a lot to catch up on." What did he mean by that? "Didn't he tell you? I had the pleasure of his company a long time ago, and he enjoyed it just as much then, didn't you, darling?" Methos looked an apology at me before his head was wrenched by Caspian. "Look at me, not him, filth. Go, Duncan. Come at supper time."

God. To leave Methos a whole day with that bastard. I wanted to cleave his sorry skull. Instead I made myself walk away.

I went in search of Dawson and poured out my heart. "I can't bear this any more, Joseph."

"And why should you be so weak, and he endure it?" Joseph asked sternly.

"Because I could end it and he can't. I should kill him - or kill Caspian and take him away."

"So why don't you?"

"Cassandra would kill you all. I know this."

"Then don't complain, man. Be strong for him. Do not add to his burdens - or ours. Now, I have the lists you wanted."

Dawson forced me to attend to my duties, but my mind was on the stables, and what was happening there. I avoided the area, so that I could pretend I could not really hear the sounds coming from there. The other slaves crept about, frightened by the noise. At sunset I practically ran to Caspian's lair but he would not give up Methos. "No, no, come back tomorrow. We're having fun, aren't we, Methos?" I could barely see the shape of the captive in the dark, and I could hear nothing. His presence was weak, so he was either dying or just reviving.

"My mistress..." I began. He cut my words off angrily.

"Has said I may do as I wish. And I wish, so go away. Unless you want to take his place."

"Will you give me that choice?"

"No," he laughed. "But interesting you care so much. A weakness." I felt sick. I had just given Caspian a weapon against me, and against Methos, one I knew the villain would not be able to resist using. "Go," he ordered contemptuously, turning his back on me. "Come back tomorrow night, slave, not before."

I could not eat or sleep that night, nor the following, when Caspian again refused. I was becoming desperate. I knew Methos would survive, unless Caspian took his head, but I did not know if his mind would. I had seen men broken by Caspian before, and had been forced to kill them out of mercy. I did not want to see Methos brought to that state.

On the third day, I was prepared to fight to take Methos from the beast. When I got to the stables, Caspian was behind Methos, and it was all too clear what he was doing. "Sit down, sit down, Duncan. I won't be long." He kept up his rape. Methos had his eyes squeezed shut, and I could not tell anything of what he was thinking. I saw that the bit was not in place - Caspian liked to hear his victims scream. I wanted to kill Caspian and I looked around for anything sharp enough - a sword, a sickle - but the place was empty of such weapons, probably by design. With a long groan, Caspian climaxed, then pulled out, wiping his cock on a bit of sacking. "Such a tight little fuck, our Methos. But he always was. You want him, do you, Duncan? Well, you can't have him. Come back tomorrow."

"Please, Caspian. Let me take him."

"Oh ho, this is a pretty pass. What will you give me, Duncan? What price will you pay?" he asked in a sly voice.

"Anything," I said curtly.

"Anything? Your head? But no, you can't take him if you're dead, so that doesn't count. Hmmm, what could I want from you?" He pretended to think. "I know. On your knees, Duncan."

"No." I took a step backwards. Anything but that. Caspian must have been delighted to finally have me in this position. The man was wont to rub himself against me, and make filthy comments just on the edge of my hearing. Until now, he had been mostly talk.

"Oh? Pity," he said carelessly, tucking himself back into his breeches. "Well, come back tomorrow, I might be feeling generous." He turned away.

"Yes. All right." I fell to my knees, trying to concentrate on the fact I was saving Methos, and not on the filthy chore I had agreed to, the sin I was about to commit.

"Don't, MacLeod," I heard Methos say faintly. I ignored him, as did Caspian who was already unlacing his breeches and pulling out his cock.

"Do a good job, Duncan, and no teeth." He pushed the thing in my face. I could taste the blood on it from Methos and I nearly gagged but I remembered that this was my only hope of giving the captive a little respite from his agony. I focused on the man hanging beyond me, not on the one trying to choke me with his cock. Caspian was more interested in fucking my mouth than anything I did, so I could be passive, but his previous orgasm meant he was a long time coming. When he did, he jammed my face against him. "Swallow it, or he stays." I choked back the sickening stuff, and fought the urge to puke. I pulled away and wiped my mouth.

"Now, free him," I said hoarsely.

"Are you sure? He's all messy now," he said playfully. "Better I should keep him."

My rage threatened to overwhelm me. "Caspian, I warn you - free him, or I will take your head." I was prepared to rip it from his shoulders if I could not use a weapon, so angry was I.

He snickered. "No need to lose your temper, Duncan." He cut the ropes holding Methos up and the old man collapsed onto the floor. Caspian kicked him. "I'm feeling generous now, I don't know why," he said with a smirk. "You can keep him for tomorrow. I'll send for him when I'm ready."

I didn't dare believe my good fortune. I pulled Methos to his feet and dragged him out of the stables. I was surprised to find Dawson waiting for me and he helped me get Methos to my rooms. Once there, I washed my mouth over and over, and begged my friend to bring wine and food to my rooms. I couldn't face the dining hall. I unchained Methos who was shaking hard, gave him some water and then I washed him, trying not to think of what I had just done although my hands were trembling. Methos touched my cheek with the back of his hand. "Duncan," he said softly. "It's all right." I realised I was crying and stormed away from him.

"Curse you, Methos! all this is your fault - if you had left that woman and her family alone all those years ago, none of this would be happening."

"Duncan, come here," he said, and I walked back to him unwillingly. He stroked my hair. "You are right, and I am sorry you are involved in this. Promise you will not do that again for me."

"I did it for me, damn you! Do you think I can sleep, or eat, or think, while you are being tortured by him?"

"I don't see why not. This is not your concern."

"It is. I cannot stand what is happening to you!" Helpless tears of frustration and anger poured down my face.

He looked at me compassionately. "You cannot do this to yourself. Forget me, Duncan MacLeod," he said a little desperately. "We both know I will be dead soon and you must forget me."

I knelt in front of him, my rage replaced by an overwhelming need to protect, to love this man however strange and evil his past had been. "Too late, too late for that, Methos," I said softly and kissed him, all that had happened that evening lost to me as I felt his warm skin on mine. He wrapped his damaged arms around me clumsily and returned the kiss as best he could. I pulled away and rested my head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. After what you have been through, this is selfish."

"This is a precious gift. But I doubt your friend will be understanding. Perhaps I should finish cleaning up. " He picked up the soiled rag and began to wipe the bits of skin I had missed in my hasty cleansing. It allowed me time to compose myself before Dawson returned.

"You can stay here tomorrow - I don't know why."

He stopped cleaning his arm and looked at me sadly. "You can't guess?"

I worked it out - Caspian wanted Methos to fully appreciate his attentions. "Oh God, is there nothing I can do for you?" I cried, furious at my inability to offer the slightest comfort without doing more harm.

He put a hand on my head and another under my chin, forcing me to look at him. "Duncan - it is not you doing this to me, it is him, and Cassandra. You do what you must from a generous heart. Don't let them pervert that too. I must take what I can to get through this, and I would rather be here than there, for however long."

I hid my face, and my despair, in his lap. I should kill him, it was the only freedom I could give him, but I had not the bravery for that. He stroked my head softly until I heard a knock at the door. I stood up hastily and let Dawson in. He ignored my red eyes and laid food and drink for two on the table. "Dawson, I wish not to be disturbed tomorrow. The prisoner has been allowed a day's grace, and I must tend to him."

He nodded and turned to go. "Be very careful, Duncan," I heard him say as he left. I almost laughed out loud. It was much too late for caution. I had already revealed the depth of my concern to Caspian. I had already given my heart to a doomed man. I would, when Cassandra returned, undoubtedly share Methos' fate.

For now, I attended to Methos' bodily need. He was hungry, naturally, after three days without food or drink, but he could not pick up the spoon. I took his hand and looked at it. "Does it hurt very badly?"

"I can't feel anything in it at all any more."

God, a crippled Immortal - if he could not hold a sword, he may as well be dead. "Will it heal? If I could get the spike out?" I thought it would, but in truth, such a terrible injury was out of my experience.

"Probably. But you must not try." I started to protest, but he laid the back of his hand across my lips. "No. On this, you will not fight me. Please, Duncan." I nodded, even though my eyes were wet again. "Thank you. Now, I am hungry."

I fed him carefully, and gave him wine and water to drink. I made him sit between my legs, on the floor, so I could rub his head. "Where did that bastard learn this evil trick?" I asked.

"I think it was his own idea. I have no doubt your lady Cassandra had him make it a long time ago, in readiness for me."

I kept up the massage, even though my stomach churned. "What did he mean when he said he knew you a long time ago?"

"Duncan...." He reached up a hand and put it over the one I had on his head.

"No, Methos, I have to know."

He turned awkwardly and knelt facing me. "No. I will not tell you about this. For your own peace of mind. Do not trust me, Duncan MacLeod. I will break your heart as surely as you see me before you. It is my nature."

"How can you say that, Methos? I know you."

"You know nothing, Highlander." He tried to stand, but I would not let him.

"Nay, man." I held him by his bony shoulders. "What you were, I do not know. But I cannot believe you are capable of that now."

He regarded me steadily. "Then perhaps you are a fool, Duncan MacLeod."

"Perhaps." I slid down and knelt in front of him. "I am not as stupid as you think, Methos. And I say you are not evil. I could not love an evil man." I kissed him, and pulled him close. "I would do anything to spare you this pain."

He rested in my arms quietly, but when I went to stand, to make him lie on the bed, I saw his eyes were damp, as were his cheeks. "I am sorry, Methos," I said gently.

"Death is the only mercy here, Duncan," he said in a choked voice. It was the only mercy I could not bring him.

"Come and lie down. You are tired." He nodded. I arranged him in the awkward position that was the only one which gave him any relief - having the bit temporarily out of his mouth did not make the headpiece any more comfortable, unfortunately. "Tomorrow, I will bathe you."

"Why? What difference can it possibly make?" he asked tiredly, his eyes already closed. I stroked the thin cheek, cut in half by a metal band.

"Because it will ease your pain. And because you stink. You are too beautiful to stink."

He opened his eyes and looked at me in amusement. "Lilies can stink, Duncan."

"Well, I want no flies in here. Rest." I rubbed his chest soothingly. Despite the pain the cradle must have still been causing him, he fell asleep quickly.

I could not sleep so easily. I could not imagine how I was going to be able to hand him over to Caspian the day after tomorrow, nor to Lady Cassandra. The only answer was to help him escape.

Methos wouldn't hear of it. Wouldn't discuss it. "Duncan, for the love of God, no. And don't talk to me about it, otherwise I would rather be taken to Caspian."

"Fine. I can arrange that." I stalked out and slammed the door behind me. In reality, I went to the kitchen and arrange some food, and asked Richard to bring a hip bath and hot water. When I returned, Methos was kneeling on the floor.

"Did he not want me?" he asked calmly. I put the tray down with a crash.

"Don't be an idiot. Get up and eat." I had to feed him, which was unfortunate, because I really did not want to meet the sardonic gaze from those dark eyes. He was thirsty more than anything, but he ate enough to keep me happy.

"Duncan, may I ask a favour?"

"Don't ask me to take your head again, I can't," I said gruffly, removing the tray.

"I know. All I want is that today, we don't talk about this. Or my past. Take me away through your memories. Can you give me that?"

"I would give you more, if I could." I took his crippled hands in mine.

"Yes, I know that too. But that is all I want, and need. Grant me that?"

"Yes."

Richard came with two slaves, bearing the tub, water and fresh towels. He goggled at the naked man on my bed. "Something wrong, Richard?"

"No, Master Duncan."

"The prisoner stinks, and I don't wish my nose to be offended." It was a mistake to explain myself, I knew. If my motives were pure I would not have done so.

"Yes, Master Duncan. Did you want anything else?"

"No. Do not disturb us. You may bring food at the usual hour."

He bowed and left. The boy was a good lad, and I regretted being so harsh with him, but there was no place for the soft-hearted in this castle. Except perhaps in the overseer, and even I knew I was taking a risk for this strange creature.

I bid him stand in the tub and poured a little water over him before I soaped him and cleaned him more thoroughly than the cloth baths of the previous weeks. I cleaned around his privates, trying to be impersonal, and he made no comment. I rinsed him and emptied the water. He seized a towel. "I'm not done, man. Sit." He was puzzled, but obeyed. I refilled the bath with the rest of the hot water, and he closed his eyes in pleasure. "There, I told you it would help."

"Indeed. My thanks."

"Well, don't take too long, I want the water after you."

"Yes, Master Duncan," he said meekly, and I splashed him. I noticed his hair was filthy underneath the metal bands. I put a cloth on the rim and made him lean back. "What are you doing?"

"I want to wash your hair."

"So obsessed with cleanliness, MacLeod. One would think you were Japanese."

I poured water carefully over his head, draining it into one of the empty buckets. I could do little with it save rinse the dust and sweat, and rub a little soap into the areas I could see, but he liked the little I did do. "God, this thing hurts," he groaned.

"Did Caspian...?" He put a finger on my lips, and I remembered his request. "I'm sorry. Tell me about the Japanese."

As he soaked, he told me about a strange land where the people killed each other with swords, ate raw fish and prayed to different gods than mine. How they loved to bathe together, men and women, fathers and daughters, and how honour was an obsession for them. "Perhaps I should go there," I said.

"They would kill you as a gaijin as soon as look at you. They are a very cruel people, the Japanese."

"So what did they do when they discovered you there?"

"What do you think?"

I pondered this for a moment. "You must have seen many things, been to many strange places, Methos," I said a little enviously. "How I wish I had lived so long."

"You may yet do so, Highlander. But age is not a blessing in itself, it's how you live. I've wasted much of my time, to my regret," he said, suddenly looking much older than his physical age.

I itched to ask him more, but that would break my promise. I picked up one of his hands, and rubbed it. "You have a magic touch," he sighed.

"My mother taught me this. She had arthritis. I used to rub her hands for her - she said it helped the pain."

"It does."

"I thought you said you couldn't feel anything with them," I said sharply, wondering if he had lied to me.

"Not in my hands, Duncan. Here," touching his breast, "and here," pointing to his head. "Your concern and kindness hurts, but it is a good pain. It has been a long time since...."

"Since someone loved you?" I said quietly.

"Yes." He tugged his hand away. "I am sorry - I have let the water get cold." He looked at me, then lowered his eyelids demurely. I saw how his lashes were thick against pale skin, his lips red - a manly face, but exquisite for all that. I bent and kissed him, and his eyes met mine, shockingly open and honest. I felt I could see into his soul, his pain and his affection, with nothing hidden. It was probably an illusion, but I did not care. All that mattered was that he was with me, and I wanted him.

"Methos...." My voice was husky.

"Duncan... I...." He raised his hands to my face, and I saw the bolts.

Suddenly, I felt sick, pressing my attentions on a captive, and a maimed one at that. "Come on, get out, man, you'll freeze," I said brusquely. I stood and helped him up. He let me dry him without comment on my change of mood, and I put an old tunic over his head. His nudity was provocative, and I felt it was some small comfort to him to have clothes, however briefly - at least it was a comfort for me. I made him lie on the bed again.

I looked at the cold water in the tub, and decided I really did want a wash. I stripped off and soaped quickly, keeping my back to him. I rinsed and dried myself. Finally I turned toward him, to get my clothes again. "God, Duncan," he breathed.

"Is something wrong?" He was staring at me open-mouthed.

"Not at all. Not in any way. You are perfect." I flushed, but it was only just, I suppose. I had been able to view his body without restraint for weeks. I put my tunic on, then sat on the bed. "Thou art fair, Duncan," he said softly, placing his hand on my chest.

"And thou," I said, kissing his fingers. "What do you want to do? Rest more? I can have some food brought?"

"No, I would just like you to talk to me, Duncan. Tell me about your home, where you were brought up."

"Do you know Scotland?"

"I've passed through it, you might say. I know Ireland, which I hear is very similar."

" _A bheil Gàidhlig agat?_ "

" _Tha, beagan, mo cridhe_ ," he said softly, the accent perfect

"You know....?"

"What that means, yes." I kissed his hand again. "Where were you born?"

"In Glenfinnan, by Loch Shiel...." I stopped. "You knew I was from the Highlands. How?"

"Your accent, but more your manners, your sense of yourself. You are a proud man, Duncan MacLeod. Tell me more. About your family."

I lay down next to him, and stroked him gently as I spoke. I kept my voice deliberately soft and the cadence even to lull him back to sleep. I knew that Caspian would not have let him sleep much, if at all, and there were deep bruises under his eyes. It didn't take long - I don't suppose that there were five minutes together since he was brought to the castle that he was not bone weary. I looked over the head piece, and saw, to my relief, that the threatened tightening appeared not to have been carried out. I wondered again why Caspian had let him stay here today. There was more to this story than anyone was telling me.

I climbed off the bed carefully, so not to wake him, but he whimpered a little. "Hush, Methos," I whispered. " _Tha gaol agam ort_."

I let him sleep for hours, while I attended to the letters and other matters that waited for my attention. He woke only when Richard brought the food I had requested earlier, and took the tub and buckets away. I brought him more water. "Why did you let me sleep?" he said, with a slight note of irritation.

"I thought you needed it."

"I needed to hear your voice more, Duncan. I want something nice to remember. Don't do it again, please," he said in mild reproach.

"I'm sorry."

"It was kindly meant, I know. More food? My stomach won't know what to do with it," he joked. Nonetheless he ate and drank greedily. When he finished he groaned loudly. "Oh, God - I get cramp if I eat or if I don't."

"Which is worse?"

He grinned at me, then winced as another cramp hit him. "Does it matter? It'll pass, don't fuss over me. You'll make someone a wonderful mother one of these days."

"You're very insolent for someone...." I bit my tongue.

"Who's going to be flogged to death tomorrow? Yes, I am. My mouth always has been my biggest problem."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean...."

He made me sit down. "We both know what's happening. I don't want you to keep apologising. It is not your fault. Promise me you won't say it again."

"You have my word, Methos."

"Thank you." To my pleasure, he brought my head forward for a kiss. "You are a temptation worthy of Salome, Duncan MacLeod." We sat like that for several minutes, but then there was a knocking at the door. I swore - I had told Dawson I was not to be interrupted.

It was Joseph. "I'm sorry, Duncan, but there is a fire in the stables. All hands needed, " he said breathlessly.

I tore out the door and ran with my fellow slave. One of the stables was well alight, and we spent a frantic few minutes getting the horses free and dousing the fire. We lost one of our mares, which would displease her ladyship, and the stable was ruined. I recalled that I had not seen Caspian in the bucket chain. I asked Dawson. "Lazy bastard," he said, and spat. "He cleared out. He said he had more important things to do."

More important than a fire in his own stables? I smelled a rat, and once the fire was out completely, and I had arranged plans for the pulling down of the remains, I returned to my rooms. The door was open and Methos was gone. The door had been locked - hadn't it? I ran to the kitchen. "Richard, have you seen Caspian? Or the prisoner?"

He was puzzled. "No, Master Duncan. We have all been outside, as were you."

Enraged, I searched the castle grounds. I knew it pretty well but it was huge, and old. A man - or two men - could hide here for years. The only thing I was sure of was they had not left the castle - the gates had been secured the whole time.

I searched for hours, and Dawson too, but we could find no trace of them. Until we heard the screaming. It rang around the grounds and echoed down stone corridors. "Stay here," I ordered Joseph and climbed grimly to the source of the horrible noise. I followed the stairs to my lady's chamber, and found the door which lead to the attic - a secret which I had been unaware of before, but which had been left ajar. Deliberately? I thought so. As I mounted the narrow stairs, the sound of Methos' screams was deafening. What in God's name was Caspian doing?

I found them, Methos hanging from his wrists, yelling and shaking his head wildly, Caspian sprawled on a chair with a smile on his evil face, stroking himself. "Oh, Duncan, you found us. Come and watch."

"What the hell have you done?" I shouted at him.

"I tightened the head piece. I told you I would." Heedless of the consequences, I went to the bound man and grabbed his head in hands that shook with anger and horror at what was being done to him.

"Methos!" I shouted urgently, trying to reach him through the overwhelming agony. "Methos, calm down!" His eyes were rolling back in his head, like a mad horse's. It seemed to me the shape of his skull was actually being deformed, and I was suddenly afraid that he was irredeemably damaged by this evil act. I leapt for Caspian and seized his throat.

"Take that cursed thing off him, or I'll kill you!" Caspian struggled against the throttling, and shoved hard against me. I felt a pricking at my breast which stopped me cold. If I died now, so would Methos, I well knew.

"Back away, Duncan," he said menacingly, his small eyes narrowed almost to slits. He pressed a little harder to emphasise his command. I let him go, and he stood, a knife cutting into me. "Now what were you saying?" he said in a low voice, laced with sinister intent. "Mistress Cassandra is going to be _very_ unhappy with you, you know. Washing the slave, taking him to your bed, talking to him. Tut, tut."

"He's not an animal," I said desperately. The knife pushed in a little harder, and the blood began to trickle down my chest.

"She thinks he is," he said disdainfully. "And when she finishes with you," he sneered, dragging the knife up my body until it rested under my chin, "you will regret ever having interfered." He stepped back, tucking his cock back in his breeches, looking at me arrogantly all the while. I stood impotently, clenching my fists at my sides trying to overcome my fear and anger so I could get control of this situation and get us both safely out of it. Caspian walked back a little and picked up a bottle of beer he had on the table behind him. He swigged from it, his eyes never leaving my face, and then wiped his hand across his mouth. "Hard work always makes me thirsty," he said, and I longed to feel his throat under my hands again.

Just then Methos screamed again, and the sound sent a shiver of panic through me. "For the love of God, take it off him. I will do anything," I pleaded, and Caspian smirked. I got the feeling that I had said what he had been waiting for.

"Anything, Duncan? You know her ladyship said if anyone gave succour to the slave, they would share his punishment. Will you do that?"

"Aye. Just take it off him," I said distractedly. I was paying little attention to his words, all I could hear was the unearthly wailing of the dying man hanging before me.

"I'll make you a little deal, my Scottish friend. I'll give you the first part of it, then I'll take the cradle off, if you stand your punishment well. Then he can watch the rest. I'll even let you take him back with you to your rooms. Agreed?"

"Agreed. Get on with it."

"Not so fast, Duncan. First, you strip." He stood with arms crossed, looking disgustingly pleased at having again got me where he had wanted me for years. At his mercy, and in his debt. I didn't need to ask why he wanted me naked. I took my clothes off, gritting my teeth against the thought of Caspian seeing me naked, and the horrible sounds Methos was making. I refused to let this animal cow me. "Very nice, Duncan. I'm sure her ladyship would let you go nude all the time, if she knew what she was missing." He grabbed my long hair, and pulled me over to where Methos stood. "Raise your arms." He tied chains around my wrists, and hauled on them, until I was on tiptoe, chest to chest with Methos.

I rested my cheek on Methos'. "Quiet, heart, it will be over soon," I said as comfortingly as I could. Methos gave me no sign he could hear me over the agony in his head, and he continue to shake it, as if he could drive the pain away that way. I pressed my face into the crook of his shoulder, and tried to still the desperate movements. "Methos," I whispered. "I'm here."

"Oh, how sweet," Caspian said sarcastically. "Mistress Cassandra will be interested to know about this."

Oh who cares, I thought wearily. Cassandra was nothing compared to Caspian's sadism. "You keep your mouth shut or we have no deal."

"Too late, Duncan - the contract is made. But I'll think about it - it depends on how much you please me now."

It was now dark outside, and he lit a lantern. Then he took the taper he had used and stood behind me. "Do you want to know what I am going to do? What I did to your lover?"

He was so close to me, I could feel his moist breath on my neck, and I shivered with revulsion. I shook my head. "No. Just do it."

"All right," then he trailed the flame down my spine.

I screamed, despite my desire to give him no satisfaction. Oh God, the pain - and we had only just started. "Now, now, Duncan. I thought you were tougher than that." He kicked my feet apart so I was exposed to him, and then he held the taper under my privates. The pain was so shocking, I tried to bring my legs back together in reflex, and he punched my kidneys. "No, that's not what we agreed, Duncan. Scream all you want, but don't try to stop me. Or else he will never be freed."

With more will than I thought I possessed, I forced myself to spread my legs again. "Very good, Duncan. Lovely," he said approvingly, as if I was a dog who had learned a clever trick.  
   
He set fire to the hair on my legs, and when I had stopped screaming, he drizzled a little lamp oil over my buttocks and ignited that. I bit my tongue so hard I was afraid it was cleaved in two. At least Methos couldn't see what was happening, lost in his own world of agony. I didn't need him to know about this - and soon he would be free.

At last, Caspian grew bored with the taper, and blew it out. He pulled my head back. "I have something else for you now, my bonny lad." He held up a device, and sickened, I saw what it was. A thumbscrew. I wondered that he had tortured Methos this way, since his hands were giving him so much pain already, but I mistook his intention. He grabbed my privates again roughly, and then I realised - he was going to attach the thing to my balls. I tensed against the pain to come. It was not long in coming - if I thought my balls being on fire hurt, it was nothing compared to them being crushed in this vice. He had another and my cock was similarly abused. I buried my face in Methos' shoulders and tried not to scream but the pain was the worst I had ever known. The only thing that let me endure it was the knowledge that I could - and Methos had.

Caspian stroked my buttocks. "Now, all comfy, Duncan? We haven't finished yet - that's just to get you in the mood for later." He took a knife and pushed it in my face.

"Yes, you've got a knife, Caspian. So what?" He stabbed me in the guts with it.

"Bad boy. Be good, or the deal's off." He waited a minute until the wound began to heal, and then he started. He sliced layers of skin from my arms, my buttocks, the backs of my legs, knowing the healing hurt as badly as the injuries. I tried not to show how much it hurt but it was impossible - the pain was enormous, and he gave me no respite. When he sliced off a nipple, I passed out, but he threw water on me, and continued.

He kept this up, until I felt unable to breathe - the blood loss was killing me. I fell into the welcome embrace of death, the sounds of my screams and those of Methos carrying me into the void.

When I awoke, I was unbound, and lying on the floor, the thumbscrews still firmly in place. Methos hung, unconscious or dead, as before. Caspian leered. "Back already, Duncan? Ready for round two?"

"Take it off," I said hoarsely, wishing I could have some water. "We made a deal."

"So we did. You might regret it though." He tied my hands and ankles before he started, and dragged me around to face Methos fully. The pain from my groin as he jerked me about was considerable. I watched as he unchained Methos' wrists and let him fall carelessly to the floor.

"Take care, friend Caspian," I warned him angrily. "I will not tolerate any more abuse of him."

"You aren't in a position to order me around, Duncan," he pointed out unnecessarily. He flipped Methos onto his back and tsk'ed. "I really did too good a job. It won't be easy to get this off."

"Do it," I growled.

He smirked again. He had been busy while I had been dead, and I saw he had his tools with him. He took a large pair of pincers and snipped the ends of the skewer through the back of Methos' neck, pulling him about roughly as he did so. Something was amiss, I could see from his expression. He picked up a cup from the floor and threw it over Methos - that was it, he wanted the prisoner awake for the final indignity. I could see from where I lay that Methos was confused and in great pain. Caspian lingered over the sight then sighed. He took up the little tool he used to tighten the special screws, and then slowly, much too slowly, began to loosen them. Methos whimpered - the pain of the relief from the pressure was intense, I could see. At last the hideous thing was swung off his head, and for the first time since the day I met him, I could see his features unimpeded. "All the way off, Caspian," I warned.

"So impatient, Duncan. You wouldn't be, if you knew what I had planned. " I had a pretty good idea and looked steadily at him. He lifted the cradle off, and then with a sudden, cruel movement, he pulled the skewer from Methos' neck, ripping it. Methos screamed and jerked. Caspian threw another cup of water over him. "Wake up, Methos. Join the fun." He dragged the thin body over to the wall, and propped him up, facing us. "You want to have a good view of this." Caspian poured water over the man until he opened his eyes.

"Duncan?" he said.

"Here, _mo cridhe. Tha gaol agam ort._ "

" _Tha gaol agam ort-féin,_ " he said softly. Despite our situation, my heart was gladdened by his words.

Caspian slapped him. "None of that."

I heard Methos mutter, _"Pog mohone"_ and I nearly laughed. To do so would have brought more punishment onto my fellow captive's head. Caspian ignored him, and came over to me.

"We have a deal, Duncan. On your knees."

"Don't you get bored with rape, Caspian?"

He kicked me, then pulled me up. "Shut up. Another word, and he goes back in the head piece, and stays here. You want that?" I shook my head. "Well, you know what to do."

He jammed his cock in my mouth, and this time, he expected me to do all the work. I could not look at Methos, knowing his reaction last time to this. Caspian was always a dirty pig, and his cock tasted disgusting. I wouldn't have put it past him to have made an effort to make it so. He kept me at the task for what seemed like an hour, but then he pulled out, unsatisfied. "No, I have other plans for you. Get up."

He pushed me over the wall against which Methos was sitting, and made me lean over him, my hands on the wall. My lover was pale in the lamplight, the deep indentations from the head piece still marring him, and the scrappy beard was matted with blood. His body too was spattered, and not just with blood. I could see the healing skin over deep burns - he had indeed been tortured just as I had. I realised that Caspian was going to make Methos see the rape, and I gritted my teeth again. My balls and my cock were on fire from the thumbscrews, much worse now that they hung free and pulled against the vicelike grip.

Caspian grabbed my hips, and that was the only warning I got before he entered me. No one had ever taken me that way, and I could not prevent a yell escaping me. I did not want to look down but I did, and saw that Methos had shut his eyes. I knew he was trying to give me some privacy, and I tried equally to keep my mouth shut to spare him. Caspian wasn't happy about this at all, and reached up under me and grabbed my balls. I almost pulled away from him then in agony, before I remembered what was at stake. Sweat trickled down my face, and perhaps a few pain tears as well. I prayed for a quick ending, but the bastard knew how to prolong things, slowing down then speeding up. I knew I was bleeding, and the blood helped a little. I could feel it spilling down my legs.

After an age, he finished with a grunt, and slapped my backside. "You are a really good fuck, Duncan. I want more of that." I straightened and faced him, trying not to sway.

"Some other time," I said as carelessly as I could.

He grinned evilly. "All right, you can take him. For what, I don't know. He's not going to be good for much when the lady returns. Nor will you." He picked up his tools and the discarded head piece, and left. I collapsed to my knees, then with shaking hands, I unfastened the screw holding the devices on my privates. I hunched over the pain caused by the return of blood flow.

"Duncan?" My name was whispered softly, and I turned to face Methos. "Why?"

"I could not let him do it any more."

"You let him rape you - for me?" His voice sounded horrified.

"Aye. For you. And for me. I never want to see that thing on your head again."

"Duncan, promise you won't ever do that again."

"No, I won't promise," I said roughly. "I do what I need to. We have to get out of here." I did not want to talk to him about it either. I helped him up, but it was as much him supporting me as me helping him. My legs felt shaky - I put it down to being killed. I dressed myself - I could not find the tunic I had given Methos. Fortunately we got out of Cassandra's chamber and down the back stairs without being seen.

I found Dawson waiting for me in my room. He took in our blood covered state. "My God, what happened to you?" he said, aghast, as he made us both sit.

I ignored his question. "Water, Joseph," I said out of a dry throat.

He poured me a cup and I drank thirstily, then gave the rest of Methos.

"I want to wash," I said to Dawson as firmly and calmly as I could, even though I was beginning to shake with remembered shame and anger. I saw Methos looking at me compassionately but I turned away from him.

"It's the middle of the night, man," Dawson protested. "No one can bring you water now."

"At the pump, I meant. Methos?" I looked at him, and he nodded. I wrapped my heavy cloak around him and we followed Dawson into the yard. No one saw us.

The pump water was freezing, but all I cared about was getting the blood and the other fluids off me and out of me as quickly as possible. I pulled Methos under the stream as Joseph pumped, and we clung together like drowned rats. "I didn't feel that dirty, Highlander!" Methos yelped.

"I did. Stop complaining," I said more harshly than I meant to. At last I felt clean, and I pulled my tunic back over my dripping wet body. I wrapped the cloak again around Methos who was shivering and dragged him back inside.

"What happened, Duncan?" Dawson asked again.

I glared at him. Damn him! He should have been able to tell I did not wish to - could not - speak of it. Methos answered for me.

"Caspian happened, Dawson. Leave him be, if you call yourself a friend," Methos said, to Dawson's surprise. "And go, lest you share this mad Scot's fate," he ordered, as if Dawson was his servant and not one of his keepers.

Dawson did not care for the sentiment nor the tone, and scowled, but I confirmed Methos' order with a gesture. As he closed the door, I said to the shivering man in my arms, "We're in trouble, I think."

"Just worked that out, did you?" he shouted in frustration at my obtuseness, flinging himself out of my embrace. "Damn you, Highlander! I asked you, begged you, not to involve yourself. What do you think Cassandra will do when she hears of this?"

"Calm yourself man. I neither know nor care. Nothing could be worse than what Caspian has done already, and I stood that." I remained standing where I was, and pretended a fatalism I did not really feel

Methos sighed. "You have a very limited imagination, Duncan. Perhaps it is a blessing. I'm tired, so are you. Let's sleep. The morning will come soon enough."

I stood before him, and for the first time, I could touch all of his face. "Thou art fair," I murmured. I leant towards him and kissed him. _"Mo cridhe, mo leannan_." He smiled under my lips, and kissed me back hungrily, the useless hands at the back of my head. I rested my face against his cheek. "Did you mean what you said? Back there."

He stepped back and regarded me gravely. "For what it is worth, I did. But my love is a poor and worthless thing, Duncan. Unworthy of you."

"I'll judge the matter, and I disagree. Come to bed." I caught his damaged wrist. "I will force that pig to take these out, or I will take his head."

"Duncan, do not fight those battles you don't need to and which you cannot win. These do not hurt any more. I can stand it."

"And if someone wants your head? How will you fight?"

"With the sharpest weapon I own." I looked at him, puzzled. He stuck out his tongue and I slapped his skinny behind. "Oh, mercy, master, you are too cruel."

"Bed," I growled. For the first time, we could lie face to face, and although his hands and feet reminded me all the time of what was probably in store for us both, I could not be sad tonight. I kissed him again and then began to rub his hands for him.

"You could rub something that hurts a lot more, Duncan."

"What?"

He thrust gently up against me. How had I missed that he was hard? I slipped my hand between us and gladly seized the silkiness of his cock. I had never done this to a man, but it seemed as natural as breathing. He wrapped his arms around me, and kissed me deeply, his tongue like a living thing in my mouth. He came in very little time, and I wondered how long it had been since he had lain with a man or a woman before he was brought here. He brought my hand to his lips, and licked it clean, the feel of his mouth on my fingers bringing a response from my body I would have thought impossible after the night's events. "Duncan, I would like to please you."

"It's not necessary, Methos...."

"I never said it was. I want to bring you pleasure." He pulled back the covers and exposed my erection. "Beautiful," he murmured, and then bent to take me in his mouth. I pulled his head back.

"No, Methos. It's sickening. I know."

"Duncan," he said patiently, "Caspian is a pig. You are a god. And I want this. Please?"

He asked for so little, so, reluctantly, I let him have his way. Second later I was clutching his head again, but only for fear he might stop. Oh my God! I felt like he was sucking me up from my toes, and I could not breathe or think. "Methos!"

He didn't stop, and I couldn't stop from coming. He sucked and he licked and drove me out of my mind. I was trembling as he took his mouth from me, and he laid a hand on my face. "Hey, hey, none of that. I didn't hurt you, my love." He brushed the tears from my cheek.

"I didn't know - when Caspian...." I could not finish what I was saying.

"Hush. Do you know how I got through? I pretended it was you taking me, with gentleness and kindness, and then I didn't mind. There is nothing you could do which I would object to."

This broke me down. "Methos... " I said, choked.

"I'm here, _mo cridhe_. Sleep, Highlander. You are safe now." He held me tight, and kissed me to sleep.

We were woken at dawn by a thunderous pounding on my door. 'Caspian,' I thought, and for the thousandth time, I wished I still had my claymore. "You stay there," I said to Methos, who sat up, looking groggy. But then I realized that there was no Immortal Presence. I opened the door to Dawson. "Duncan, you have to come."

"Cassandra?"

"Worse."

I made him wait until I dressed quickly, and tossed clothes to Methos.

"You should stay here," I said to him.

"And let Caspian play with me again? No thanks. I'll take my chances with you."

We made our way upstairs to the courtyard. My lady Cassandra was there, on foot, bound in ropes and filthy, as were two horsemen, and a band of thugs. "Kronos?" I heard my lover say in surprise.

"Methos!" The horseman with a ugly scar down one eye jumped down and embraced him, then gave him a full mouth kiss, which Methos returned enthusiastically.

He pulled away with obvious reluctance. "Welcome back, brother," he said.

 

* * *

I watched in open-mouthed disbelief as Methos greeted a man who was clearly a good friend of Caspian's.

"So you found her, Kronos," Caspian said.

"Right where you said, brother," the one called Kronos said, clasping the torturer by the shoulder. "But I did wonder that you sent us so very far out of our way."

"Wanted to have some fun before you got back, brother." Kronos cuffed him in a friendly way.

"And you never said a word to our Methos about us coming back," Kronos said, winking at Methos.

"No, he kept his mouth uncharacteristically shut," Methos said sardonically, and Kronos roared with laughter.

"Naughty, naughty Caspian, up to your old tricks again." He picked up Methos' wrist and looked at the spike and the bolt. "That's not nice, brother."

"It won't hurt him in the long run," Caspian said and cackled. Methos revealed nothing in his expression.

"Well, I think it doesn't suit his new status. You take them out now. Get your bag." Caspian headed towards the stables.

"Where is Silas?" Methos asked.

"Coming, brother. You don't think I could keep you two apart? He should be here in a couple of hours." Methos nodded approvingly. "And who is this? Another one of us?" Kronos asked Methos, looking at me.

"Lady Cassandra's head slave. A disobedient one, as strong minded as he is fair, brother."

I was betrayed with every word.

"Should he share his mistress' fate, Methos? Or will you share him with me?" Kronos asked.

Methos shrugged. "I don't really care, although if you talk of sharing, you should ask Caspian, since he's had him, not I, " he said wryly. "But I wouldn't mind a chance to taste the fruit before you cut down the tree." I wanted to strike him for his insolent carelessness of my fate.

"Hmmm. Well, as you like, Methos, you always had good taste in body slaves. But we can't have a head slave who disobeys his master." Kronos kicked me behind the knees forcing me to kneel. He grabbed me by my hair and pulled my head back until I thought my neck might break. "You belong to Methos now, slave. You have no purpose other than to serve him, or any one of us who wants you. Understand?"

"I would rather be dead," I gritted out.

"As you like," he said casually, and then drew his sword to strike my head off.

Methos put a hand on Kronos' arm, and made him lower it. "Brother, brother," he said peacefully. "Give me a chance. I haven't been able to train him yet - I've been otherwise engaged, thanks to the lady Cassandra."

That distracted Kronos. "Ah yes, Cassandra. Much too dangerous to live, I think you will agree. I'll give her to you to kill, I think."

"Thank you, brother," Methos answered, as if he had received a small, unimportant gift.

"And we need a new head slave. Got any ideas?"

"This one, Dawson. He is loyal, and obedient. I couldn't get him to speak a word to me. He'll do."

"So, Dawson, you are now our overseer. Your first duty is to inform your fellow slaves that they have new owners. Your second is to keep them - all of them - inside and behind closed doors and windows this morning until you are called. Anyone who is seen will be killed, no warnings. Go."

I watched Joseph go, and hoped that he might be protected from harm by his new position. It was certain I had lost mine, just as I had lost the illusion of affection from Methos. I was ignored as Caspian returned. "Caspian, this one is Methos' body slave now. You can shackle him when we're done."

"Not, I might add, the same way as me. I like my slaves unmarked," Methos said. "Now take these fucking things off me." Caspian leered. He made me hold Methos' arms while the bolts were unscrewed and the spikes removed. If Methos felt any pain, he hid it well - the arm in my hands did not shake at all. I was made to kneel on all fours so Methos could rest one foot and then the other as the procedure was repeated. I looked up as Caspian was sent flying, and Methos was suddenly at his 'brother's' throat with a knife that appeared from nowhere. "I should kill you, Caspian, for your games," he said menacingly.

Kronos forced Methos' hand aside. "You are angry, brother, and I understand. Let us discuss proper retribution later. But now, another of your mistakes awaits your vengeance." I stood, since no one seemed to be paying me any attention, but I caught Kronos' eye. "Methos, your body slave is still dressed."

"Easily rectified, brother." He walked over to me, his eyes cold, and tore the clothes from my back, leaving me only in my loin cloth. "There. Now, slave, that is how you will be at all times." He turned his back on me, as if I was of no importance, and I wondered what had happened to the tender, sweet man who had held me in his arms. Was he only an illusion?

Methos seized Cassandra by her long hair. She spat at him, and he wiped the spittle off with her hair. "Time to die, witch." He dragged her to the centre of the courtyard and made her kneel. Even though I knew what she had done to Methos, I couldn't believe he was going to kill a bound, unarmed Immortal, but before I knew it, he had swung the sword he borrowed from Kronos, and the witch's head rolled in the dust. The Quickening was surprisingly brief, but then Cassandra had avoided conflict with other Immortals in the time I knew her, so perhaps that was her habit. It still left Methos kneeling on the ground in obvious pain. I was punched in the back and forced forward.

"Your master needs assistance. Go to him," Kronos ordered.

I walked to Methos' side. "You could have shown some mercy," I grated out quietly.

"Death is the only mercy here, I told you," he said simply, just as quietly. He stood with my help. "The next head is yours, Kronos," he called out. "I've lost the taste for them."

"Pity that," Kronos laughed and walked over, clapping Methos on the shoulder. "Dawson!" he called loudly. "Bring your people out. I would speak to them."

The morning was chill, but it was not that which made my naked body shiver. I realized that we were in the hands of these men, and another yet to come. One, a ruthless killer, another, a sadist unequalled. And Methos. A self-confessed murderer and rapist, briefly my lover, and now my master. I suddenly envied mortals, who could at least hope to escape this hell through death. I might be kept like this for eternity.

The household, a hundred people or so, came to the courtyard, as they had the day Methos was brought here. There were gasps as people recognised the body lying in the dirt. "Slaves, your former owner is dead. I am Kronos. I and my brothers, Caspian, Methos and Silas, who will come soon, now own you. This one," pointing at me, "disobeyed his mistress and will be punished. Dawson is now the head slave. Disobedience, trouble, quarrelling, will have one punishment - death. There will be no appeal. Now, back to work." He waited for the assembly to disperse. "Dawson, bring food to the dining hall for us, and better clothes for my brother Methos. I will take Cassandra's chamber. My brothers will expect rooms at least as spacious."

"Yes, my Lord Kronos." Dawson bowed, and I was relieved to see that he was prepared to accept the situation, as I would never have done.

"Caspian, you brought chains? I suggest you collar Methos' new pet. I only hope he's trainable."

"I think he is, brother. I only had one failure, as you know," Methos said mildly, apparently uninterested in my fate.

"But what a failure, brother. Still, you do have a way with slaves, there is no denying." As Kronos talked, Caspian had his filthy hands on me, feeling me up. Methos slapped his hands away.

"You had your chance yesterday, Caspian, and the day before. You keep away from him until I have a go."

"Losing your touch, Methos?"

Methos held his knife at the man's throat. "Care to lose your tongue, dog?"

"Brothers!" Kronos intervened. "This is what happens when Silas isn't here to make peace. Caspian, get on with it." Kronos swept off, followed by most of his men.

Caspian put a chain around my neck and pulled it tight. I choked and scrabbled at the thing to get some air. "Let him breathe, Caspian," Methos said sharply. The chain was loosened marginally.

"Swallow," Caspian ordered. I could - just. He looked satisfied, and padlocked it off. There was a chain end hanging down my chest, and I guessed, correctly, this was to be my leash. "Wanted to put you in this the day I saw you, Duncan. And when it's my turn to have you, what fun we will have, hmmm?"

"Leave him alone, Caspian. I'm lucky there's anything left to train," Methos said without any humour at all.

"Not so quick, brother. Kronos said to shackle him, and I'm going to." Caspian put a chain around my ankle and pulled it painfully tight, and locked it. He strung out two feet of chain and then bound my other ankle just as tightly. I could not stop myself wincing.

Methos ignored me. "Are you finished playing?" he asked. "Because I want to eat, Caspian."

"I'm surprised you didn't get your fill this morning, brother," he said, pointing at my privates.

"Watch your tongue, Caspian, or it won't be his cock that I will bite off."

Caspian giggled.

Methos tugged me along by the leash, barely letting me keep up. The chain length was long enough to walk slowly, run not at all. At least I had been spared mutilation - for now.

The great hall was full of lounging soldiers, and the high table now hosted Kronos and Caspian. Methos took his seat at Kronos' right hand. I was bid stand behind Methos. The smell of the cooked food reminded me I had not had supper, nor breakfast, but I did not allow my face to betray my feelings. Kronos ate heartily, Caspian, like the pig he was, Methos in dainty economical bites. I listened to their conversation, and learned that Caspian had lured Cassandra into a trap by saying her old enemy Kronos had been taken prisoner, and was hers for the taking. Like the fool she was, she rode off and was captured. Caspian had sent word of Methos' capture to Kronos, who had long sought his brother - my guess was that Methos had not wanted to be found but Kronos did not question this in my presence. It was Kronos who had taken Cassandra from Methos - the 'mistake' Kronos has referred to. It seemed the only lie Methos had not told me was when he told me not to trust him. But it was too late for that.

The hall doors were flung open and a great bear of a man came in. "Brothers," he roared, coming to Methos' chair and grabbing him in a crushing hug.

"Silas! It's good to see you again." The affection on Methos' face seemed unfeigned, but I was the last person to judge.

"And you, brother. You're too skinny, as usual." He saw me. "And who's this pretty thing? Another toy?"

"This is Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, Silas. My new slave." The big man circled me.

"Very nice, Methos. Plenty of flesh on him. Have you fed him yet?"

"Not yet, brother. We just sat down to meat ourselves."

Silas scraped off some dirty plates onto another and put it on the ground in front of me. "There, " he beamed, as if he had done something enormously clever. "I like to see slaves eat. Keeps them content, brother."

"You heard Lord Silas, slave. There is your breakfast," Methos said coldly. I knelt with as much dignity as I could and ate what little real food there was, trying to not think whose mouth had been on it before. Did I imagine a slight nod of approval from Methos? He turned away, and as soon as I was sure I was ignored again, I pushed the plate away. I would rather starve than eat their leavings.

They took a long time over their food, and they seemed to have many things to discuss. They planned to make the castle their base, for the moment, and Caspian told them all that he knew about the possessions, and the neighbours. "A rich prize indeed, brother Caspian. We owe you our gratitude, not least for bringing our Methos back to the fold," Kronos said, and Caspian snickered.

"Now, brother," Kronos said to Methos as they finished eating. "Your slave."

"What about him?" he replied lazily.

"You say he disobeyed Cassandra?"

"Yes, to help me."

"It makes no difference, brother. A disobedient slave is a dangerous thing and we need to make an example of him. I'll let him keep his head - for now - but he must be punished. What do you suggest?"

"The old ways are the best ways, I always say," Methos murmured, and Kronos nodded approvingly.

"Fifty lashes? Let's make it a hundred, since it won't kill him."

"With a wire flail," Caspian added.

"I always said I like how your mind works, brother," Kronos said with a grin. "Yes, as you suggest. Tonight, at the evening meal. Now, I want to see my new chambers. Dawson!"

My legs felt weak at the thought of a public flogging - a hundred lashes with a flail would kill me for sure. The pain was less of a concern to me than the humiliation, which only proves what a fool I was.

Methos rose and yawned. "Brothers, I need a bath, a nap and new clothes. I take my leave of you until later. Dawson, send someone to show me my new room."

It was young Richard sent to direct us, and he looked in unconcealed horror at my changed station, and at Methos'. I warned him with a look not to make any comment, and wisely, he took us in silence to one of the guest bedrooms, long disused. I knew better than to ask if I could have my things from my old room - I had no possessions now, just as I had lost everything else.

"D...do you want anything else, my lord?" Richard stumbled, and I hoped he would not do so badly in front of Kronos. Methos waved him away, and shut and locked the door. He listened at it for a minute then came to me.

"Sit, Duncan, we have much to discuss."

I did not move. "Are you sure, Lord Methos? Slaves do not sit in their master's presence," I said bitterly, in mock submission.

"Don't be a fool," he said irritably.

"I have been a fool. I am enslaved, but a fool no longer," I said with what was left of my little pride.

"You were a slave when I met you," he said. "Nothing has changed."

"Everything has changed!" I argued passionately, forgetting the pretence of submission. "Cassandra is dead, these dogs have taken her place, and you... you... you are the same as them. Those you call brothers."

"They are not my brothers, Duncan MacLeod, and I am as trapped here as you are. Damn your eyes, man! Don't you see? I can do nothing to help you, beyond what I have done."

"Your slave is eternally grateful for his master's kindness," I said sarcastically.

He stood in front of me, his frustration obvious. "You don't see it, do you? You bloody fool. I had to get you out of the head slave's position - you would have clashed with Kronos already, and you would be dead. I know you. Dawson is more tractable - he will be safe as I can make him, I promise you."

"Did you have to make me your body slave?" I gestured at the leash.

"You would prefer to be Caspian's? Or Kronos? For mark my words, Highlander, those are the choices - that or death. The Horsemen have no freedmen, and no equals."

"Horsemen?"

"Know your Bible, do you, Highlander? I'm in it - we all are. I rode a pale horse - ring any bells?"

"Death," I whispered in horrified realisation. "An abomination, just as she said."

"And she is dead and we are not. The only thing you can do is survive - at whatever cost."

"The cost is coming out of my hide, by the look of the thing."

For the first time, I saw regret. "For that, I am truly sorry, Duncan. There was no escaping a punishment once Kronos decided. I chose flogging because I knew you could stand that. I wasn't expecting it to be so severe."

"And that makes it all right, I suppose."

"No, damn you, it doesn't! But would you prefer one of Caspian's clever little punishments? He plays with fire, you know."

"I know. He played with me."

His head came up with a jerk. "What did he do to you?" he said sharply.

"What, you mean other than rape me? Just a little deal we struck to keep that lying head of yours in one piece. Don't worry about it - all water under the bridge."

"Duncan, I'm sorry, I didn't know." He went to take my hands but I pulled away. "Take care not to do that in front of Kronos. Duncan, I have not deceived you."

"You have lied all along. Cassandra said you would. She wasn't so mad after all."

"What did I lie to you about?"

"You said you loved me!"

"I did not lie about that. I said I would break your heart. I did not lie about that either. And I warned you I was unworthy of your love."

I sneered. "Well, have no concern about that, Lord Methos. A slave does not love a master. I have learned my lesson."

Methos' back snapped straight, and his eyes narrowed in anger. "Learn this then also, Highlander. You will learn to be submissive and obedient at all times when you are in public, and in private, if I wish it, or Kronos will swat you like a fly. You will not glare at me, or him, as you did at table just now. You will eat scraps - all of them, not just what you want - if they are set before you. You will lick piss from the floor if it is ordered. Instantly." He picked up a book from his desk, not looking at me as he added, "And you will learn to please a man in bed."

"No, not that," I said, horrified. Become a whore to these men? Never, I swore.

"Yes," he hissed. "Because in a few weeks, Kronos will ask for you. Or Silas will, or Caspian, and you will go willingly and with my blessing. And you will please them. For if you do not, they will know that you have not been trained properly, and you will be killed. And then how will you protect your friends? So hear me well, Duncan. I am your master, you are the slave. Your feelings are unimportant. All that matters is survival. I will not hesitate to sacrifice you to save myself, and if you will not learn, you will die."

"You make me want to puke," I said through clenched teeth.

"Then vomit and clean up the mess, for all I care. Learn your place, Highlander, if you don't want it to be under Kronos' foot, or his sword. Now, you will arrange a bath, and clean me, and dress me. You will learn to do these things automatically, and without complaint."

"Yes, Lord Methos," I said sarcastically, and he slapped me.

"Again."

"Yes, Lord Methos." Another slap, harder.

"Again, and I suggest you get it right this time, slave."

I saw he was out of patience, and I was in real danger. "Yes, master," I said meekly, hating myself for my submission almost as I loathed him for demanding it.

He nodded in approval. "That is much better. While you get the bath, tell that boy to clear out your room, and bring me all your papers and books."

"Yes, my lord." I backed out of the room.

Outside the room, I saw there was a guard, so I lowered my eyes and went down the stairs like a good little slave. Out of sight, I leaned my forehead against the wall and screamed my anger in my mind. I would kill Methos for toying with me. To make me love him, care about him, and now to do this to me. All his words about 'saving' me and Joseph - lies, all of them. This was his true nature, come to light. I forced myself to be calm and went to the kitchen where Richard was, looking as miserable as I had ever seen him. I was acutely aware of my nudity, but pretended not to be. "Richard, Methos wants a bath. I'll help you bring the water up. And bring all my belongings and papers to Methos' room."

"What will happen to us?" he fretted.

"I don't know, boy," I said, suddenly bone weary and sick of caring about the fate of others. "For now, take care not to anger anyone, or disobey them. There is no such thing as patience, or mercy, from these men. And you cannot escape."

"The lady Cassandra was better."

"She is dead, and so shall you be if you don't hurry up, boy!"

The kitchen slaves were so dispirited, I had to work hard to roust them up, and doubtless there were some who welcomed the downfall of a firm master. My nakedness put me at a severe disadvantage in dealing with them, especially the women, and I had to drive them with threats of blows to their task. No longer overseer but a mere catamite, they were inclined to be alternatively frightened and cheeky to me. But at last we were headed to Methos' new room with the water, a little procession carrying buckets, towels, clothes and my scant possessions for Methos' enjoyment. He watched impassively as all was set down, and he sent everyone out but me. "You took your time," he said.

"I'm sorry, my lord," I said meekly.

"Duncan... please." For a second I glimpsed the old - what I had thought of as the 'real' - Methos, in the dark eyes but I ignored his tricks.

"My lord wishes to bathe?"

His eyes narrowed again, and I saw he was angry. "Take my clothes off, then you can wash me as you did the other day."

I did as I was bid to, trying to ignore the sight of his body which still had the power to arouse me. I saw the spikes had left deep scars from the long impalement, but even these would fade soon. His hands seemed to work as normal. "If my lord will step out, I will refresh the water.

"Never mind that. Dry me."

I dried him carefully, and then waited for my next orders. "I want to rest, Duncan, but I can't take the risk of someone walking in with you loose. Get on the bed."

I did not mean to flinch, but I must have indicated my distaste, for he slapped me again. "Very well. I don't have to argue you with you. Kneel beside the bed." Confused I did so, and he took the robe he had discarded and tore it into strips, tying my hands tightly behind me. Then he took my leash and wrapped it around the bed post, so that I was forced to kneel up to avoid strangulation. "Perhaps next time, you will obey without question, Highlander. Do not move."

He climbed onto the bed and turned away from me, leaving me in a very uncomfortable and humiliating position. I burned with anger and embarrassment, fearing that someone would come in and see to what I had been reduced.

He slept for three hours, and by the time he woke, my body ached from the position. My knees hurt, my throat felt like it had been cut in two, I needed to piss and I was hungry. He rolled over and for a moment, seemed confused as to why I was there. "You didn't move. Good." He got out of bed, and dressed leisurely before he released me. "Take the bath things away and bring food." He ignored me then, turning to the papers that had been brought from my room.

I took what I could carry and make my awkward way downstairs again. I couldn't face returning to him just then, so I sent Richard up with my master's lunch. I relieved myself and stretched mightily, before returning in a few minutes to the room. I was greeted by being seized by my leash and pushed to the floor. "I told you to bring my food, not that child! You forget your place already, Highlander. Kneel." I did, and he shoved my head down to the floor. "Put your hands behind your back. You will stay in there until I say you can move. If you weren't to be flogged tonight, Duncan, I would beat you myself."

My already cramped muscles screamed in agony at this new position, and my stomach rumbled painfully. I knew if it had been Kronos, or even Cassandra, I would be dead by now, so I suppose Methos was being 'merciful'. I listened to him eat and drink, and I heard papers rustling. I don't know how long I was left like that. I didn't dare twitch - I didn't know this cruel stranger who had replaced the gentle man I loved, and I didn't want to.

I suppose it was hours later, from the feel of my back and arms, when he came and nudged me with a foot. "You may sit up now." My tired muscles wouldn't obey, and he pulled me up by my hair. "Duncan, you really need to learn to respond immediately. Stand up." He kept one hand in my hair and more or less pulled me up by it. "Learn quickly, Highlander, and life will be more pleasant for you." He threw a bundle of papers at me, and I caught it. "That's your journal. Burn it or hide it well. You can't have such things."

"Yes, master."

He sighed. "Go away, Duncan," he said tiredly. "Have something to eat, and get some rest somewhere. I have no energy for you now, and the night will be difficult for us both." For a moment, I forgot what he meant, until I remembered the flogging to come. "Keep out of Kronos' way, and don't wander off. I will send for you. And make sure you come, and no one else."

I bowed, as I used to, to Cassandra, and escaped downstairs.

Thankfully, the place was almost empty, except for a couple of kitchen slaves. I found some food and drink, and sat in the corner. I had little appetite, and the collar made eating a chore, exactly as Caspian intended no doubt, but I knew I would not be given many opportunities to take a meal. My body ached, and my heart also. Why was Methos being so cruel? And what would become of us? My friends, Dawson, Richard, the others - me. I envied the Lady Cassandra the peace of death. I tried not to think of the evening to come, but my mind kept coming back to it. I'd seen Methos flogged, and I knew how he had suffered. And yet he had delivered me without a thought to the same fate. I looked up at the sound of an approach and saw Dawson.

"Are you well, Duncan?"

"Aye, friend Joseph. You?"

"Well enough. This is an evil day. I never thought I would be sorry to see the witch dead, but I think we were better off with her."

"You would do better to hold your tongue, man."

He waved a hand to dismiss my words. "I am no fool, Duncan, for all that I am old. What will happen to us?"

"I don't know. You must be obedient, and loyal to them, and do not question anything you see. Especially tonight."

He gripped my arm. "A beating like that will kill you."

"Yes, and then I will revive. It is no matter, Joseph."

"They are animals," he spat.

"Yes, but they are clever, especially Kronos. Now tell me what has been happening."

He related how Kronos had had him enumerate the stores, and the herd and pack animals. "He seems not used to the running of a castle."

"Probably not. He will rely on Methos." During my conversations with Methos, I had already discerned that he knew much about the ways of a keep, and its management.

"The slave tricked his masters, I think," Dawson said with disgust.

"He fooled us all. Trust him no more than the others. You better go, Joseph. I suspect it is not a good thing to be seen talking to me just now."

"God speed you, Duncan MacLeod." He risked a quick embrace.

I watched him leave. There was food left but I could not eat any more. I felt too heartsick for that. There was nothing else I could do, but try to get some sleep. I curled up on the floor beside the fireplace, but I could not rest. I was sore, uncomfortable and afraid. As the afternoon became evening, more and more slaves came into the kitchen to prepare the meal, and they looked at me with curiosity but little kindness. I had long since learned that there are those who flow in their affections only towards the winner. I was a loser, and so to be ignored. Not by all. One or two stopped and whispered good wishes. Most ignored me but I did not care. They were my charges once, but no longer. All I could do was save myself, and prevent harm coming to anyone else through my faults.

It was dark and time for supper before I was summoned to Methos' presence, in the great hall. I saw that the flogging post had been moved into the hall from its normal position outside - it appeared I was to be the evening's entertainment. But I was not the only one to suffer. Cuffs and kicks were common, and a servant who dropped a tray was casually stabbed to death by Caspian. The other servants were terrified, and I saw Methos' knuckles whiten as the girl died. He made no comment and seconds later was laughing at something Kronos said. I stood behind his chair but he did not address me, nor look at me. I had no duties other than to wait to be flogged.

The four horsemen and their soldiers gorged themselves at length before Kronos stood and addressed the household. "Time for a little fun, brothers. You see this slave?" He pointed to me, and I was dragged out from behind Methos by two soldiers into the middle of the hall. "This slave disobeyed his last owner. Now, he did that to help my brother, Methos, so just this once, I am inclined to be lenient. But mark you what happens to those who disobey me - for whatever reason. I will not be merciful again. Tie him up."

I was dragged to the post, and my hands tied tightly above my head, my legs spread wide. I was stretched and leant forward, so all my weight was on my arms and my shoulders. One of the men pulled my loincloth off, and then tied the leash to the post. I waited there, exposed to the assembly. I heard Kronos' voice, closer now, and behind me. "What say you, brother? Shall I let Silas do this?"

I heard Methos' cultured baritone reply. "No, brother - he's too soft hearted." Caspian snickered.

"What about you? Do you think you can flog someone who helped you?"

"I like a disobedient slave no more than you, brother. Let me do it."

Kronos came in front of me and grabbed my jaw, forcing me to look at him. "Well, slave, you see what your actions have brought on your head. Methos will not spare you, I will see to that. And you will count each stroke or we will start all over. And if you die," he added in a whisper, "we can wait." He set my head free and I saw him nod. I braced myself for the blow.

God almighty! I couldn't speak for the pain. "Count it off, slave," Methos said.

"One," I gasped. Another blow, this time lower down. "T...two."

If Methos was pulling his strikes at all, I could not tell. The hall was completely silent, save for my screams, my hoarse counting, and the sound of the flail striking and ripping my flesh. After thirty, I could not speak, and Methos threw water in my face. "That was thirty, slave. Say it."

"Th.. th... thirty..." I slurred.

"Give him a moment to recover, Methos," Kronos sang out, sounding amused. "You're too enthusiastic - we don't want him to miss any of this,"

I hung there, panting, shaking my head to try and clear it. I have never felt such agony. Had Methos really gone through this day after day for weeks? And how then, could he do this to one who had spared him pain? I hated him with all my soul.

The respite was soon over, and the punishment continued. I passed out after seventy, but was revived with water thrown in my face. Methos took my jaw. "Come on, slave," he loudly enough for all to hear. "The sooner you wake up, the sooner it will be over." His eyes were cold, and his face was flecked with my blood. I wanted to spit, but my mouth was too dry.

He moved away, and the beating resumed. At one hundred, I heard the flail being tossed away and Kronos' booming voice. "Well done, Methos. My God, I hope I'm never on the end of your whip. Cut him down."

The ropes tying my hands were cut, and I fell, almost strangling myself on the leash which was still fixed. It was released and I collapsed on the floor. My feet were freed, and I heard Methos say, "Clean him up under the pump, Dawson, and bring him to my room."

"You'll take him after that, Methos? You are either brave or foolish," Kronos laughed.

I didn't hear Methos' reply. I was concentrating on getting my feet under me. Dawson could not really support me on his own. I leaned on him to catch my breath. "Go on," I whispered finally. I shuffled out, stumbling a few times. Not a sound came from my fellow slaves as they watched us pass. I tried to hold my head up, but I was too tired for that. Out in the passage way, I fell to my knees.

"Get up, Duncan," Dawson said urgently. "If they find us here, they kill us both." I forced myself to stand. Somehow he got me in the courtyard, and I knelt as he pumped the icy water over me. God, was it only last night that I had stood with Methos in my arms as we washed? The cold dulled the pain, and the cuts were healing, I knew, but the bruises would take longer to disappear.

The water stopped, and, shivering, I clung to Dawson as he helped me inside and up to Methos' chamber. It was empty. He bid me stand by the fire as he dried me. I couldn't stop trembling. "Duncan, it's over," Dawson said in a futile effort to calm me.

"Over? It's not over, Joseph," I said through chattering teeth. "It won't be over until those bastards are dead."

"Quiet, man. Do you want to get dressed?"

"Why bother? So Methos can have the pleasure of tearing the clothes off me again? Just leave me, Joseph. Thank you."

He left me crouching on the floor by the fire. I shivered as if I was still cold, but I felt too hot if anything. I think I must have fallen into a daze, because the next thing I knew, I was being urged to stand, and helped over to the bed. "M... Methos?" The room was dark, and I could not see him. He gave me some water but most of it spilled down my chest, my hands shook so much. He took the cup away, and cupped my face.

"Hush, Duncan. Lie down, _mo cridhe_." I wanted to ask how he could call me that now, but I was too tired. I curled up, and gentle hands rubbed my sore shoulders. "Sleep, Duncan." I was happy to obey.

When I woke, it was early dawn. I was in Methos' bed, and he was wrapped around me. The pain from the beating was completely gone, except the pain in my heart, which would never go. I wanted to get away from him, but I dared not, so I lay stiff and still, awaiting his pleasure. After last night, I wanted to do nothing to arouse his ire. After last night, all that remained of my feelings for him was fear.

He woke not long after. "Duncan," he murmured.

"My lord," I said politely.

His eyes opened and he looked at me. "Are you all right? Did you sleep well?"

"I am ready to serve you, master."

He leaned up on one elbow and gazed down at me. "Duncan, I'm sorry - I had no choice."

"My master does as he pleases. This slave lives to serve him." I could see my words had angered him. "Does my master want his breakfast?"

He rose in a single movement and walked away. "Yes. Bring a bath too. Get out." I climbed out of bed and went to the door. "Wait. Put a loincloth on at least." He looked among the clothes that Dawson had provided and threw me a cloth. I fastened it.

"Anything else, master?"

"Go, Duncan," he said harshly.

I did not dally and food and water for the bath was brought up quickly. He made me wash and dress him before he ate, and I served him the food. He was still angry, I could tell. "You really don't understand, do you, Duncan?"

"My lord."

"Oh, stop calling me that," he said in irritation. "You aren't any more obedient than you were yesterday. Duncan," he said, seizing my shoulders. I flinched in reflex and he dropped his hands hastily. "Please try to learn, and understand. I have no choice. You have no choice. I flogged you to save you from Silas or Caspian. It wouldn't have just been one hundred strokes with them - Caspian could have made it last all night. Silas would have cut you in half." I shivered at the thought. "I can only do what I can. Kronos is watching me, watching you to see if you will betray me or how I really feel. Can't you see?" He pleaded with me, but my heart was too full of anger to listen.

"I hate you," I spat out.

"Then hate me," he snapped angrily, releasing me. "Do what you have to do, feel how you have to feel to survive. All I ask is that you live, Highlander. The rest is unimportant."

"I can see that."

"Well, that's a blessing, at least," he said sarcastically. "Take this away and bring Dawson to me."

I bowed and left. I had to search for Dawson and found him in the library. He seemed relieved to see me. "My master wants to you to come," I said to him.

"Me? Why?"

"I don't know, and I suggest you don't ask. Hurry up, man."

I found Methos seated at his desk, reading through the accounts. We waited patiently until he was ready. "Sit, Dawson," he said finally.

"My lord?" I knew why he was surprised - Lady Cassandra never invited her slaves to sit in her presence. I wondered that Methos had done so.

Methos rolled his eyes. "Oh, God, another one. Dawson, Duncan, sit down for heaven's sake. In this room, we can be frank with each other. But do not make the mistake of thinking this gives you any protection, or rights, or that I will tolerate any familiarity at all outside these walls, or in front of the others. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Lord Methos," Dawson said. "Can I ask, what will happen to us?"

"To you? Nothing. Life will continue as it has done. The Horsemen are not the best masters, nor the worst. The lady Cassandra had her faults, you will admit. You will learn how to avoid incidents like last night - those who don't, will die. I can do nothing about that. The others will take some of the comelier slaves to bed, and worse - I can do nothing about that either. Other than that, you will be fed, and sheltered. That is all you can expect."

"My lord, there are not enough stores for the new men, as well as us."

"I know, and that is what we must talk about. You too, Duncan. I want you to help Dawson as much as you can, as discreetly as you can. To everyone else, you must be nothing but my body slave."

"Yes, master." He glanced at me in irritation. I was beginning to see that obedience could be as annoying as disobedience.

We spent the morning talking about getting new provisions for the extra mouths, and preparations for the winter. There was money to buy food in, and although the Horsemen would probably go raiding in the Spring, for now, Kronos was apparently content to play lord of the manor and live off the wealth he had 'inherited' from Cassandra.

"My lord," Dawson asked hesitantly. "What about replacements for those slaves who are killed?"

I saw a flicker of some deep emotion cross Methos' face, but his voice was steady. "The trader who brought me here may come through here again. We can buy from him. Dawson - Kronos will hold you responsible for any shortcomings of supplies or servants. Do not fail him."

"No, my lord. Do you require anything else?"

"Some better clothes - have some made if there are none around. Kronos will be asking for them too. Caspian doesn't care, and Silas wears the same things year in, year out. But Kronos likes to play the dandy, and as his right hand man, I will not be allowed to shame him."

"I will see to it."

"Go, then. Dawson? Remember what I said - nothing I have said to you in confidence leaves this room.

"No, my lord." He bowed and left, then Methos turned to me.

"You've developed a taste for the whip, have you?"

"No, my lord."

"Funny - you're going the right way about it to be flogged again, and worse. Don't pull that innocent slave act with me in private again, Duncan, or I will shed you like a dirty cloak. I am not a fool, and neither are you."

"What do you want of me, Methos?" I cried in anger, rising from my seat. "One minute, you are telling me my place, and forcing me to obey, and the next you are demanding I speak to you as an equal. You can't have both. You can't flog me nearly to death, and expect me to love you."

"No, I can't," he said sadly. "Sit, please, Duncan. Have some wine." I sat stiffly and did not drink. "I know this is hard for you. It was hard for me to learn it too." My surprise showed. "Did you think this was the first time I had been a slave? I have been a slave for ten times longer than you have been alive, and far worse has been asked of me than I demand of you. I am trying to spare you a lot of pain, and keep you alive."

"Why?"

"I told you why. I love you. Even without that, I am grateful for your treatment of me when Cassandra had me. I told you I would not forget that. I don't break my word, whatever you think."

"But yesterday..."

"Yesterday you were in shock, and likely to run amok and get your lovely neck cut in half. I had to teach you quickly that this is no way to survive. The flogging - I regret that with all my heart. I would have taken every stroke on my own back, but that would have done neither of us any good. Nothing has changed - everything I said before, and yesterday, is true."

"I don't know you any more," I said, confused and hurt.

"I warned you that you did not know me. Duncan, Cassandra was my slave and I had to train her. She never really learned, and when Kronos asked for her, she rebelled, and was severely punished. Worse than what happened to me at her hands, I assure you. She escaped, eventually. I didn't see her again until when I arrived here."

"How did she escape?"

"I let her go - she was too much trouble."

"Then let me go," I pleaded.

His eyes were sad. "I can't, _mo cridhe_. Not yet." He touched my face. "Duncan, you have to endure this for a while."

"How long?"

"I don't know. A year. More, perhaps."

"I would rather die."

He gripped my face painfully, but there was sorrow as well as anger in his eyes. "That is the only other option. But think, Highlander. If you die, you will never know if one day this was all to be a distant memory, as you begin a new and happy life. If you die, you leave your friends behind, defenceless." He let my face go, and stroked my cheek. "I know you don't care, but if you die, I would grieve most sorely for you."

"I don't know if I believe a word you say any more."

He took my hands and held them tight. "Hear this, Duncan MacLeod. I have never lied to you, and I never will. I love you. I will lie to anyone else, do, say, be whatever I have to, to survive. But here, with you, I do not lie. I am Methos, no one else. I may have to hurt you, I may be forced to punish you, and I will certainly have to train you to do some unpleasant things. But in here," he put my hand over his breast, "I am yours."

"I want to believe you," I said softly, "but I don't know if I can trust you."

"Nor do I, Highlander." He kissed me gently, and despite my confusion and anger, the touch of his lips stirred me. "I know you are angry, Duncan. I don't expect you will ever feel for me what I feel for you, not again. But I will do all I can to help you." He stood up. "Why don't you bring us some food and we will eat. You've had no breakfast, have you?"

"No, I didn't want to delay bringing you yours."

"I don't want you to starve on my account. In future, you bring enough food for two, unless I say otherwise. This afternoon, I will inspect the castle with Dawson. You stay here - you can see about the clothes. Keep your eyes and ears open, Duncan."

"You want me to be your spy," I said with disgust.

"For both our sakes, Duncan. If trouble can be stopped before Kronos hears of it, lives can be spared. I thought you would want that."

"I do." We stared at each other for a long while.

"Run away, lad," he said gently. I was more confused than ever.

 

* * *

I felt as if I lived in different worlds. By day, I spoke with Methos and Dawson about the running of the keep, and the outlying lands and tenants. Save for my continued nakedness, and the cursed chain around my neck, I was treated little differently by them than I had been before. I had to bathe and dress Methos - for my own sake, he said, for Kronos would become suspicious if he came in and found Methos doing for himself what I was supposed to do. It was no empty threat - the Horseman was prone to walking in at awkward moments. Fortunately, he never saw anything amiss. Mornings were safest, and just after meals, but we had to be alert. My other slaves, save for Richard, mostly ignored me, at least to begin with. But as the cruelty of the Horsemen bit ever deeper, I found I was turned to for support and comfort. Many times, I came to fetch Methos' breakfast, and found a female slave sobbing quietly, bruised and bleeding after a night with one of them. I would hold them, and try to calm them, but there was nothing I could do except to tell them all to accept their fate as obediently as possible, and not attract attention. It wasn't just the women - a month after their arrival, I found Richard washing awkwardly, tears rolling down his face. The blood on his legs and his face told me all I needed to know. "Which one?"

"K...Kronos..." he sobbed. I took the cloth from his hands and cleaned him gently then held him while he cried. "I want to die, Duncan."

"I know, boy. But you will get through."

"You had to go through this?"

"Yes. Here, drink some wine. You'll be all right."

I waited until he was quieter before taking the food to Methos. "You were a long time," he said, and I explained.

"Be careful not to show your affection for Richard, Duncan. Nor for anyone else. It will make it worse."

"How could it be worse?" I cried. He looked at me patiently. I had a limited imagination, he'd already told me that.

By night, it was my turn to suffer. My gentle Methos disappeared as he joined his brothers, and a cold-eyed stranger took his place as they fed and joked and taunted the servants. I was fondled like the others, but largely ignored, although Caspian continued to leer at me and make suggestive comments. Silas was more kindly - he was a man of simple wants, rough with his slaves because of his size more than innate cruelty. Kronos, I could make no sense of, and feared greatly. So did Methos, I came to understand. I also came to understand what he had tried so hard to tell me, and to forgive him a little for his actions, but I was still suspicious of him, and did not trust him.

As he promised, he made me learn how to please a man sexually. Had things been different, I would have taken delight in what he made me do, but it was clear he got no more pleasure from it than I did. Sucking him, learning the most sensitive points, being taught to keep my eyes lowered, and not to come without permission, to swallow everything, and show no revulsion, was all as erotic as cleaning a floor. At night I slept in his bed, and he put his arms around me as if we were truly lovers. I could not bring myself to reciprocate - I felt betrayed, and could not feel as I had for him. He never pushed the issue.

I was grateful, in a way, for the training, when Kronos came into Methos' chamber to look for him one morning, some two months after they had arrived. Methos had gone out early with Dawson, and I was left alone. I jumped up when Kronos stalked in. "Where is my brother?"

"He is with Dawson, my lord." I kept my gaze down at the floor.

"And he leaves you here on your own. Trusting chap, that Methos." I made no reply. "Tell me, slave, when Lady Cassandra had him here, where did he sleep?"

"On the floor, Lord Kronos."

"And where do you sleep, boy?"

"On the floor, lord," I lied. I knew better than to tell him that I enjoyed better conditions than his brother had.

"Good. I see you know your place." He lifted my head, turned it from side to side as if inspecting a horse, then made me turn around. "Pretty, aren't you? I think I might ask my brother to lend you to me tonight. These women are so tiresome, they cry all the time. I like men, they're tough."

"Yes, my lord."

"You'd like me to be rough, wouldn't you, boy?" he whispered, licking my ear.

"I wish to please you, lord." My voice only shook a little.

"Good." He slapped my backside. "Tell Methos I want to see him." He walked out.

My legs trembled so much, I had to sit. Methos had warned me this would happen, but still I wasn't ready.

There was a night a week ago when I thought Silas would claim me. He had had a female slave on his lap at dinner, and as Methos sat, Silas grabbed his arm. "Do you like this one, brother?"

"She will do well enough," Methos said politely. Silas shoved the woman off him and made her kneel at Methos' feet.

"She's yours, brother."

"No, Silas, I don't want to deprive you of your fun." For a moment, I feared the big man was going to suggest an exchange but he merely grinned.

"Have her tonight, at least, brother. She's good. Maybe teach your slave a few things."

"So she might. Thank you, brother." And then the woman was ignored as I was for the rest of the meal.

When he was done, Methos told me to bring the woman with me to the room. She was already crying and Methos turned and hissed at me. "Make her shut up, Duncan, or it will go hard on both of you." I put my hand over the slave's mouth, and whispered to her to keep quiet. I did not know what Methos would do to her, but I knew we were in public as he saw it. That meant no gentleness or kindness to anyone.

He lounged on the bed. "Undress her, Duncan." The poor girl wept silently as I took her thin tunic off, and she shivered from cold. Methos got up and walked around her. "Personally, I don't see what Silas thinks is so special. But perhaps looks aren't everything. Take my clothes off, Duncan."

I kept my feelings off my face, as I had been taught, as I removed his clothes, but inside I was seething. Why play this charade? I folded the clothes and put them aside, and waited. He pinched one of the girl's small breasts and she bit off a scream. "Not much there." He smacked her backside. "Or there. So, girl, what are you good for?"

"I... I can p...please you, sir."

"Go ahead." He stood there, looking bored, as she knelt and sucked him. I caught his eye but he gave me no hint of his feelings. "Duncan, get behind her. Make her wet. I don't want to rip my cock off in some dry cunt."

I knelt, and felt for the girl's privates. She shuddered and I hated myself for what I was doing. No matter what I did, she did not respond, and I had to use spit to substitute. He pushed her off him. "Slave, you suck cock like a cow. Silas has no taste." He was hard, despite his words. "Bring her to the bed, Duncan." I pulled her up and dragged her over as he commanded. "Lay her back, feet on the floor. Hold her, Duncan."

I knelt behind her head, and held her shoulders while he fucked her. Her eyes were tightly shut, but I dared to look my anger at him. He stared back, his eyes empty of any emotion, and I wondered if he even knew what he was doing. He finished - or least, he pulled out - not long after. "I've had worse, I suppose. Get off my bed." I lifted her away, and she stood in my arms, crying again. "Keep her quiet and let her sleep with you."

He saw my confusion, and he jerked his head in the direction of the fireplace. I took her away and wrapped her in my arms, to give her a little cushioning and to keep her warm on the bare stones. He didn't speak to either of us again that night, and I made sure she got away before breakfast. Methos never mentioned the matter. He gave Silas polite thanks for the gift, but made no comment about the girl's efforts.

And now I was to be Kronos' companion for the night. I doubted I would have the relatively easy time the female slave had had under Methos - I came to realise that he had made things as gentle as he dared - but I also knew Methos could not save me from it. I told him of Kronos' visit, about him wanting me to sleep on the floor, and the rest of it. He nodded. "I'm surprised it took him so long. You will go to him, Duncan, and please him. There is no other way."

"I could escape."

"He could cut your head off. Duncan," he said seriously, "you are helping here a great deal. The other slaves need you. Will you abandon them?"

"Will you abandon me?"

"No. You will endure this, as you endured the rest. Remember what I taught you."

"That night...." I stopped.

"Yes?" he asked, puzzled.

"With the girl - you never came, did you?"

He let out a breath. "No, of course not. I haven't raped any one - not willingly anyway - in two thousand years, Duncan. I've lost my taste for it, and a great deal more besides. If I wanted to force anyone, you would not be safe, I assure you. I did what was expected - no more. If I had not fucked her, she would have made comment, and it would have got back to Silas - or Kronos. Did you enjoy putting your hands on her cunt?"

"No!"

"And am I less feeling than you?" I shook my head slowly, and he gave me a brief smile of thanks. "Now, what Kronos likes...."

He explained in more detail than I wanted about what the man wanted from a sex partner.

"How do you know these things, Methos?"

"Because I was Kronos' slave before I was his brother," he said in a flat voice.

"You let him fuck you?" I said, in real surprise.

"The same as that girl 'let' me fuck her, yes. I had no choice. And nor do you." His expression was bleak. "Go away, Duncan. I cannot look at those sad eyes of yours. You won't get much sleep tonight, if Kronos claims you. Get some rest in the kitchen - not here, we can't risk that. Come for me at supper."

I huddled by the fire in the kitchen. The autumn was sharp and the cold weather was hard to bear in my naked state. But I shivered more from fear than anything, and I wondered again how I had come to this - a Highland man, brought to be the plaything of some bored thugs. Being a slave was bad enough - being a catamite for anyone who wanted me was far worse. Despite Methos' many warnings, I turned my mind again to escape, and again, could not come up with an answer. Anything I could do would involve the help of another slave, and that would mean their death, unless they came with me. Another person would slow me down.

I was woken by Dawson, who told me to get myself to the Hall for dinner. Already? I walked as straight as I could, and stood behind Methos' chair as usual. Kronos glanced at me, but paid me no mind. I thought I had escaped, but I was premature in my relief. As the meal was ending, Kronos leaned over to Methos and said loudly, "You have trained the slave well, Methos. "

"Thank you, brother." Methos revealed nothing in his voice.

"I would like to try him out - can you spare him?"

"Of course." Methos waved a hand, and I went and stood by Kronos chair.

"I don't want you to be deprived, brother. You, girl." Kronos grabbed a serving woman by the wrist and dragged her over. "You are to serve Lord Methos until his body slave returns. Kneel."

The terrified girl crouched at Methos' feet. "You think of everything, brother," Methos said.

Kronos beamed. "I do, don't I. That's why you love me. Come closer, boy." I stood beside him, and he stroked my buttocks. "Such a pretty arse, Methos. You always could pick them. Kneel, boy, and show me what you've learned."

My cheeks burned with shame - to be doing this in front of the whole household. At least no one was paying attention to us, not even Methos. Kronos didn't look at me, or stop talking as I unlaced his breeches and freed him. I crouched over him, hoping no one would see what I was doing, and took him in my mouth. Despite the training, despite Methos insisting I had to learn this and tolerate it like any other task, I still found it revolting. None of that showed in my face, and I brought him to hardness and to climax very quickly. His come filled my mouth, and I had to struggle to swallow it - it was vile. He slapped my back when I was done, and pushed me off. "God, Methos - what a lovely mouth he has. I might not give him back to you."

"And deprive me of the benefits of my hard work, brother? That doesn't seem fair," Methos said calmly. Kronos laughed.

"Never fear, brother. I will give him back - eventually. Perhaps Silas will want a turn before I do?" he asked the big man.

"No, brother. I like women - nice and soft. Keep him for yourselves, I'm content."

"I'm not," I heard Caspian say as I stayed crouched on the floor, not wanting to look at anyone.

"You had your go, brother, and I think Methos is owed something for your fun and games earlier. Maybe I should give you to Methos instead?"

"Please, brother - I'd rather sleep with a pig, it would be cleaner," Methos said, and Kronos roared in amusement again.

"Very true. Well, I'm not sleeping with a pig tonight, it seems. Get on your feet, boy." He gave me a vicious kick. As I rose, I caught Methos' glance - I saw the tiniest narrowing of his eyes, a warning, perhaps? I gave him a slight nod, and he relaxed. I was warned, he could do nothing else for me.

Kronos lead me to his room. Hot water awaited him. "Clean me, boy," he ordered. Now I was glad that Methos had insisted I perform this duty for him - it all came naturally to me. I soaped him and as I came to his privates, he seized my hand and made me work his cock until he came. He splattered me, but I did not dare wipe it up until he gave me permission. I rinsed him off, and then he soaked in the bath. He made me fondle him as he bathed, and he played with my hair, making me wish I had cut it off long before I had ever met this creature.

When he was done, I dried him. "Does my master wish to be dressed?" I asked politely.

"Not yet, boy." He tore off my loincloth and threw it aside. He parted my arse cheeks, and lifted my balls. "Are you clean?"

"Yes, master." Thank God Methos had warned me about this.

He dragged me to a chair, and made me kneel. "Get on with it, and make it last this time."

I worked him, and disobeyed him to the extent that I made him as aroused as I dared. I did not want to prolong this. Suddenly he punched me painfully and kicked me away. "Slowly I said, boy! Kneel up."

I did so, and he rammed his cock into my face, smashing my mouth against him until I could not breathe. I choked and struggled, despite the training, and he punched me again, without letting me go. I could only breathe when he pulled out, but I had only a second to do so before he slammed into me again. He twisted his fist in my hair painfully, and held me tight as he fucked my mouth. My throat was raw before he came, and I swallowed painfully - he had caused swelling and between it and the collar, I could barely get anything down. I would have collapsed to the floor, but he still held me by the hair.

"Not quite as well trained as I thought, are you, boy?" He kicked me again, and threw me down on the ground. "Stay there."

I couldn't move anyway, for trying to get my breath. Suddenly there was an unholy pain in my backside and I screamed. He kicked me again. "Shut up, slave or I'll gag you. Sit up."

He walked in front of me. "Kneel back." I did so, and bit off another scream - whatever he had put up there was pushed deeper in. I couldn't sink any lower on to it. "Right - now, don't move."

My thighs quivered from the strain of the unnatural position, and my arse was tearing. He came back to me with some strips of leather in his hand. "That hair of yours keeps covering up your face. Can't have that." He tied a strip of leather around my forehead cruelly tight - it was wet. "Now that's going to sting a bit when it dries," he said, pleased with his work. He also tied my wrists behind me, again with wet leather, and put another binding around my sore throat. I was frozen into position by pain and fear, but I knew if I surrendered to it, he would kill me.

He sat and watched me for a long time, relishing the pain on my face as the leather tightened. My head felt like it was going to explode, and I understood why Methos had been so frantic that day when Caspian had tightened that devilish headpiece. I had to fight not to do as Methos had done and shake my head to try and relieve the pain. I couldn't feel my hands any more - the circulation was cut off and I could only breathe shallowly from the binding on my neck. After too long, Kronos got up and walked behind me. "Get up," he said, and jerked the thing in my arse, forcing me up. He came in front of me again, and this time, began to play with my cock, obviously trying to get me hard. I was in far too much pain to comply with his desire, and he slapped me.

"What are you thinking about, boy?"

"Nothing, master."

"Wrong answer." He punched me in the stomach and I bent over the pain, before he jerked me up again. "When with me, you think of me, understand?"

"Yes, master," I gasped out. He took a knife and cut the bindings on my hands, and I hissed at the pain of the blood returning. He slapped me for making the noise.

"Reach between your legs, boy and pull that thing out."

He watched me with a grin on his face as I encountered the sharp blade of a knife - it was the hilt inside me. I could not pull it out without cutting my hands badly, and it was so deeply imbedded, I had a deal of trouble to remove it. Finally I worked it free, and it slipped from my blood-slicked hands. He kicked it away then kicked me.

"On your hands and knees, slave." I guessed what was to come, thanks to my experience with Caspian, but it did not diminish the pain at all. "Damn it, you're still tight." He slapped my buttocks. "Next time you come to me, you be prepared. I'm rubbing all the skin off my cock."

I remembered what Methos had said, about pretending Caspian was someone else. The only person who came to mind was Methos, which helped a little, as I tried to pretend that I was being made love to tenderly, not raped brutally by this animal. My body betrayed me, as Kronos reached under me and grabbed my half hard sex. "Oh, you do like it rough, boy." But I went soft as he touched me, which made him angry again. He slapped and scratched me as he pounded into me. I was in agony from both ends of my body, the strap on my head making it feel like it would crush me, and my arse feeling like I was being split in two. He took a long time to finish, and I was ready to scream by the time he pulled out. "Not bad - for a first time. But there's a lot of work to do on you, boy."

"Yes, master," I said between gritted teeth. He ignored my tone and stood up.

"Get a cloth and clean me up." Thankful he hadn't expected me to use my mouth, I damped a towel and wiped him carefully. He cuffed me when I was done. "Now, I'm going to punish you for not being prepared as you should have been. Go and kneel by the bed."

Weary already from his torments, I couldn't think what he could do now to me. He tied my hands again with wet leather, and then my leash to the bedpost. "You will stay in that position all night, slave. If you move, I will kill you."

God. A few hours in Methos' room had nearly broken me, and I now knew why Methos had prepared me as he had. We had slipped up by forgetting the other, but that was my fault, not his. The pig climbed into bed, and ignored me.

That night was the longest I'd ever experienced. There was little chance of me falling asleep with the pain in my head, but the position was almost unendurable. If I were not Immortal, I suspect I would have broken down, but I kept telling myself I would not be permanently damaged from this. I was so tired though, and I longed to rest, to stretch, anything. I recounted poems in my head, and ballads, but I had to take care not to doze off. At last dawn came but it was still an hour or two before Kronos stirred. "Still here, boy?" he joked. He untied me, and slapped me by way of a wake up. "Bring me food."

I was so dazed, I forgot I was still completely naked, and unwashed. The cook gasped at my state as I walked in on unsteady legs that barely held me, and Dawson rushed to me. "Duncan, what happened?"

"Don't ask me that. Kronos wants breakfast." Dawson signalled to the cook to get a tray ready, and while she did, he gently wiped the blood from my hands, and the other stuff from my face. He touched the band.

"Nay, Joseph, don't. Kronos wants it." I jerked my head away as he tried to remove it.

"He's a devil, not a man," Dawson said angrily. "Do you want a drink?"

"Aye. I'm very thirsty." He poured me water. I was hungry, but I did not dare delay to eat.

Kronos made me kneel on sore knees and feed him his breakfast. As I did, he worked the blade of a knife under the leather strap on my forehead, cutting me. He was satisfied. "Take care, boy. If that become loose, I will do more than bind you."

"Yes, master."

When he was done, he told me I could eat the scraps. Mindful of Methos' words the day this animal arrived, I ate everything on the plate. He told me to take the tray away and to return. I stumbled on the stairs, too weary to keep my footing and measure my pace to the hobble. The tray crashed down, and I fell after it. Horrified by the noise, I scrambled to pick everything up. Someone reached past me to help. I turned around - it was Methos. "Hurry, Duncan," he whispered.

We collected the broken crockery onto the tray, and he handed it to me. He touched the headband. "I'm sorry, my love. Be brave," he said softly, and then walked away. I blinked and shook my head - was it an illusion? If not, Methos had just taken a great risk for me. I got to the kitchen, and got a scolding for breaking the plates, but I didn't care. All I wanted was to rest and to be free from pain.

Kronos kept me crouching by him, my head on the floor for two hours while he worked and read, then I was left, tied up, by the fireplace, where I could at last sleep for an hour or two. I was so tired, the flagstones almost felt comfortable, but I was soon kicked awake and sent for his meal. Again I had to hand feed him, and then suck him off after lunch. He made me kneel by his bed as he took a nap, but I was then left alone, bound once more, for several hours while he rode out. I felt wretched, tired and sore, and longed to die. The degradation of being a Horsemen's slave never seemed to end.

I tried to sleep again, but I was in too much pain. The door opened a little while after Kronos left, and to my surprise, Methos came in. He held a finger to his lips to signal silence, and then he knelt by me. "Methos, he'll kill you if he finds you here," I warned

"I'll tell him I wanted you to service me, Duncan. He's so lusty, he'll believe that. Is it very bad?" He stroked my face.

"Bad enough. We forgot I needed to prepare myself." Despite myself, I leaned into his hand. It felt so good to be treated gently.

"I'm sorry. When you go to the kitchen next, get some goose grease and use it." He touched the band again. "This is a dirty trick of Caspian's."

"Nice friends you have, Methos."

"Not friends, not nice. Have you eaten?"

"Scraps. It's not important. Methos, you really should go."

"I just wanted to see you were all right."

"I'm Immortal - what can he do to me?" I said bitterly. He kissed my forehead gently.

"Try to sleep. Conserve your strength and don't think about things too much. He'll get bored in a couple of days - he always does."

"He says I need to be better trained."

Methos swore. "Then I suggest you learn quickly, Duncan. Here, let me rub your shoulders."

They were sore from my hands being tied behind me, and his hands felt wonderful. I groaned a little, and he planted a kiss on my neck as he finished. "I have to go. Remember, it will not last forever. Keep your courage up, Duncan."

"Do I have any other choice?"

He shook his head sadly and left.

Kronos was in an ebullient mood when he returned, just before the evening meal. He told me to get some food and to wash. I was not to wait at the high table, but in his room, and to ensure that a bath was waiting for him. I was glad to escape, and washing in a bucket felt good. I felt I would not really be clean until I escaped these men. I ate and arranged the bath for the time I thought Kronos would want it. I also took Methos' advice and employed the grease, begging a small pot of it for future use - I had an idea I would have need of it.

Waiting was hellish, as I knew that the evening to come would be unpleasant, and I did not dare sleep in case he caught me. Perhaps that was why he wanted me to wait - to think about things. He was a master manipulator, that Kronos. I wondered what would happen in the Spring. Would our neighbours fall to them, or would the Horsemen meet their match? The other lords in the country would not give up their lands or their freedom without a fierce struggle. Perhaps then we would have the opportunity to free ourselves of the loathsome yoke.

He came in earlier than usual, and the bath water had only just been delivered. He tested the band on my head and then without warning, shoved his fingers up my backside. I bit my tongue trying not to yell. "Good, you're ready. Bend over."

With no more preliminary than that, he thrust into me. The grease helped, a lot, and he came quickly, to my intense relief. "Wash me," he ordered.

He seemed uninterested in games this evening, a small blessing, but he made me stroke him to completion in the bath as he had the previous night. He drank some of the wine that he had ordered, then got into bed. To my surprise, he told me to get in with him, and then he pushed my head down under the covers. Any thought I had that I would finally get some decent sleep was dispelled when he said, "Take me in your mouth, boy. If I get hard, you suck. If I wake up, and you are asleep, I'll kill you." I thought this might at least be easier than what he had demanded of me the night before, but staying awake was difficult in the hot airlessness under the bed covers. I lay face down over his crotch, and he was hard in seconds. I brought him off, and he appeared to sleep. His cock did not. I sucked him off half a dozen times, until I wanted to choke, and I longed for fresh air. The position strained my head and I wondered if I would ever lose this wretched binding from my forehead.

Despite my efforts, I did sleep, but fortunately he did not catch me at it. He woke and stretched, before pulling my head up and making me get out of the bed. "Food," he ordered, and I fled.

I washed my mouth out before I returned - I doubted I would ever really lose the taste of his come. He was insatiable - before I fed him, he fucked me again, and made me wash him. I was so sick of it all - where was ordinary human tenderness in all this? How could a man get any satisfaction from raping another human being, who hated and feared him? He told me to leave him after breakfast, and make myself useful in the kitchens, as he did not need me. It seemed he was growing bored, as Methos predicted. I wished I had some clothes on, but I was glad to do some honest work again, menial though it was. I brought him his lunch and he punched me.

"You stink, boy. You should have washed before you came up here. Get out."

I left, and took the opportunity to clean myself. Dawson found me, and we spent much of the afternoon talking about the estate - anything but the subject of our masters. "Methos is worried about you," Dawson said quietly, when we were sure we were alone. I laughed.

"Considering who he is, and what he is, that's very funny, Dawson."

"I think we were wrong about him," he said, just as quietly.

"Which time, Joseph?" I said bitterly.

"Duncan, don't let your anger blind you to the truth. You need all the friends you can get."

"Friends like him, I can live without." He dropped the subject.

Not long after, the woman who had been given to Methos as a personal slave came to fetch us. "Master Dawson, Lord Kronos wants you. Duncan, you are to go to Lord Methos."

I hid my relief at being spared the afternoon with the monster. The woman followed me up, so I knelt respectfully.

"My lord summoned me?"

"Lord Kronos is unhappy with you, slave," Methos said angrily. "He says you are poorly trained, that you come to him unwashed and unprepared. You have shamed me." He struck me viciously across the mouth.

"I am sorry, master," I mumbled.

"You will be. He has returned you to me with instructions that you be better trained, or he will have you killed. Maya, you can return to your other duties. You have done well."

"Yes, master. Thank you."

I heard the door close and then Methos lifted me gently. "I'm sorry, my love, it was necessary for appearance sake."

I wiped the blood from my lips. "I've taken worse."

"I know."

He cut the band from my head, and my neck, and I cried out from the pain. He massaged my head. "Easy, Duncan. I know. Give it a minute." Before long the pain had eased, and for the first time in two days, I was without a headache.

"Thank you. Is Kronos truly angry?"

Methos seemed amused. "I taught you too well. He only complains about poor training when a slave doesn't fight him or cry - you were too amenable, it seems."

"He would have killed me if I fought."

"Ah, well, I never said he was logical. Come and sit down. Would you like some wine?"

I nodded - I was thirsty, and without the leather band on my throat, I would able to swallow more easily. I fingered the chain on my neck. "I wish this could go too."

"I'm working on it, Duncan. We must move slowly. Kronos is suspicious of me for many reasons. If anyone asks, I beat you viciously, understand?"

"You already did," I said dryly.

"You'll never forgive me for that, will you?" he sighed and would have moved away, but I took his hands.

"No, Methos. I begin to understand many things. All but how you joined these bastards in the first place."

"I told you - I had no choice. I was taken in battle, and Kronos had me as his body slave for over a year. Then one of the Horsemen lost his head, and Kronos offered me his place. It was either that, slavery or death. I don't like being a slave, and I didn't want to die."

"And Cassandra?"

"She was just one of a thousand slaves we took, over a thousand years, Duncan. She was different in that she was Immortal, but in no other way. She refused to accept her lot. I told you the rest."

"But she trusted Caspian. I don't understand that."

He laughed. "That's the greatest irony of all. She captured Caspian two hundred years ago, but he convinced her he hated me as much as she did, and hated Kronos too. She came to believe his lies, and trust him. He does hate me - but not enough to anger Kronos by killing me. And I hate him, more than Cassandra ever hated me."

"But why?"

"After Cassandra left, Kronos gave me to Caspian. He's grown scarcely more inventive over the years, let me assure you."

"But yet Kronos wants you back." My head was aching again from trying to work all this out.

"No one walks out on Kronos. He thinks no one wants to leave him, not really. It's easy to convince him to take you back - getting away is the hard part."

"But you and he were lovers." That was the thing that plagued me - the memory of that kiss of greeting.

"Much as you and he were lovers, Duncan. Or you and I since you hate me so much."

"I don't hate you," I mumbled. He tilted my head, and I saw a smile in those mysterious eyes. I shook my head at him. "I don't know what I feel, Methos. It is not fair to ask a slave that. Our positions are such that you can force me to your will, and I will have to bend. Ask me if I am ever free."

"All right. I won't press."

I pleaded with him. "Methos, I cannot go through that again. I have to escape."

"Duncan, do you trust me?"

"Do I have any choice?"

He laughed softly. "Not really. When the time is right, I will get you away."

Fine words, I thought. I would rather have a sword in my hand and a horse under me. "Where does Kronos go today?"

"He is looking out the defences on my advice."

"You plan to go raiding in the Spring?"

He sighed heavily. "Not my idea. I've tried before to tell Kronos that peace and prosperity can go hand in hand, but he's old fashioned. Doesn't like things he hasn't taken from another."

"Will you go with them?"

He nodded. "I may have to. Duncan, that is months away. Kronos won't ride before the snows are completely gone. Meanwhile, he gets bored and is easily annoyed. You and I will have to try and stay his hand from the Mortals among us."

I knew what he meant - better my arse, my back, than a child like Maya, or an old man like Dawson.

He sat down. "Duncan, would you brush my hair? I am untidy." I willingly did so. His hair was not as long as mine, but thick and pleasant to touch. He enjoyed the attentions, and let me shave and wash him. To my surprise, he insisted on returning the favour.

As he bound my hair after spending many minutes brushing it carefully, I asked, "Aren't you afraid you'll be caught?" He grinned, and with a vicious twist, he pulled me by my hair and flung me to the ground. I stared at him in annoyance.

"You were saying, slave?" He held out his hand, and I took it, only to flip him easily over my back.

"So sorry, my lord. You must have tripped."

"Kronos is right - you are poorly trained," he muttered. "Come on, sit down. I've nearly done."

He tied off the braid. "There. A bra' Scots lad." He kissed me, and I surprised myself by returning it. His face glowed with pleasure, but he said nothing.

For two weeks, we had peace of a kind. Apart from some cutting comments about me to Methos in the hall, Kronos left me alone. The weather grew sharper as we approached winter, and Methos and Dawson were busy arranging stores and making sure the place was secure. Kronos went out of the castle most days, I think to everyone's relief. Caspian hid himself away in the stables, and apart from one or two unfortunate slaves, he bothered no one. It lulled me into thinking that perhaps things were tolerable, but I was wrong. Very wrong.

The warning came one afternoon, just after sunset. I was in Methos' chamber when a messenger came, all out of breath. "My lord Kronos wants your presence, master," he gasped at Methos. "In the hall."

We both went down, and found Kronos in a towering rage, screaming for food and drink, his hands red with blood. Methos attempted, with little success, to soothe the man. I could not see Dawson, but one of the slaves, Peter, who was with them, told me what happened. Kronos' horse had thrown him - caught its foot in a hole. He cut its throat in anger, and forced Dawson to walk, taking his horse. When he got back, he killed the stable lad, but that had not satisfied his anger, hence the display.

"He left Dawson to walk back on his own?" I asked, horrified. "Has the old man returned?"

"I haven't seen him."

"For the love of God, Peter, fetch Richard and go and find him - he'll die in the cold." Peter looked uncertain. "Tell the guards at the gate Lord Methos commands it."

"But, Duncan...."

"Go, boy. Lord Methos needs Dawson - he will be very angry if he dies. Make haste." The lad still looked uncertain. "It will be all right, I promise."

He nodded and slipped away. I saw Methos watching me. I tipped my head slightly to show I had things in hand, and he nodded. I knew I had done what he would have, if Kronos were not here.

The meal was hastily served, and the Horsemen sat down to their meat. Kronos glowered at everyone, and got drunk. Caspian teased him, infuriating him, while Silas and Methos tried to keep the peace. Kronos found fault with everything - he claimed the food was burned, or it was too salty. Nothing was to his taste He smashed a serving girl into Caspian, making him spill his beer. Caspian leapt up with a roar of anger, ready to cut the child's throat, but Methos seized his hand. Caspian twisted, and faster than I could see, buried the dagger through Methos' hand and into the table. Kronos stood and yelled at Caspian, and the girl, and went to strike the wench. Without thinking I made to step in front of the blow before I remembered my place, but it was too late.

Kronos made me kneel by kicking behind my knees. "You, boy, are in need of some remedial training. Caspian, Silas, it's time for target practice." He roared at the household to leave the hall, and even the soldiers fled. His brothers seized my arms and held me against the wall spread-eagled. I was glad to see the girl took her chance to escape, even as my heart pounded with fear at what they might be about to do to me. I saw Methos, white-faced, free his hand and hold it to his chest, the blood pouring down his tunic. He said something to Kronos, but the man snarled and shook his head. Methos sat and watched me, his eyes hooded as they usually became when he was forced to witness Kronos' barbarity.

Kronos walked over to me and spat. "I should kill you, slave. You're like that stupid bitch, Cassandra - too much trouble. Well, I'll teach you a lesson you had better never forget tonight, and if you forget it, I will remind you with my sword. Brothers?"

Caspian grinned, and taking another knife, he pinned my hand to the wall with it, as he had done to Methos. I screamed, which only made him laugh. Silas did the same to my other hand, and now I was helpless. Caspian kicked my legs apart and bending down, he stabbed me in the calf into the wall, repeating it with the other leg. The pain was blinding, and tears of agony ran down my face. Kronos looked pleased, and for the first time since I entered the hall, he smiled. He collected some of the blood that ran from my hands and painted three circles over my stomach - one just above my groin, two at the bottom edge of my ribs. "It's been a long time, brothers. Who wants to throw first?"

"Me, "Caspian said, giggling. He was drunk as they all were except Methos. He picked up a knife from the table and threw it. It hit me in the head hilt first. Kronos whacked his brother on the shoulder.

"You throw like a girl. Silas, show him how it's done."

"With pleasure, brother." His aim was better, and he hit me twice, once in the shoulder, the other in one of the circles under my ribs. I felt the lung collapse, and I began to struggle for air.

"Better, but not perfect, brother. Caspian, you have that lovely knife of yours, let me have it." I saw Caspian pull out a much large dagger with a heavy hilt and hand it to Kronos, who weighed it. "Beautiful work, brother. You should make me one just like it." He hefted it, and threw it. It hit me above the groin, puncturing my bladder and pinning me harder against the wall. Piss and blood ran down my legs. I had no breath to scream, but waves of pain flushed through my legs, and up into my chest. I sagged, tearing my hands a little. All my weight was held by the last knife Kronos had thrown. My vision dimmed, but I heard him say. "What about you, Methos? Fancy your hand at the last one?"

I didn't hear his answer, but I felt a knife enter my chest, piercing my heart. As I died, I heard Methos say, "A little high, I'm afraid."

I revived in darkness, with a hand over my mouth. I struggled against the pain of coming back to life, and the binding hands. "Be quiet," Methos whispered fiercely, and I stopped struggling. Strong hands on either side of me helped me stand, and I was half carried out of the hall and up to Methos' chamber. By the lamplight, I saw the other person was Richard.

"Where is Dawson?" I asked weakly.

"He's safe. We found him a few hours ago. He was unconscious, but we warmed him up and put him to bed. He's all right, thank God."

"Thank you, Richard."

"Richard, get out of here," Methos said, "and if you value your life, do not say anything to anyone about this, or finding Dawson. I will take full responsibility for this. Go."

"Yes, Lord Methos." The boy closed the door quietly. Methos dragged me over to the fire, and left me on the floor while he built it up. I was too weak and tired to help, or care what was happening to me. He put a blanket around my shoulders.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"Like a badly cured cow hide. What happened?"

"Kronos drank more and passed out. I had him taken to his room, and when everyone left, I got Richard to help me with you. We seem to have to carry you out of that hall a lot, Duncan," he said with a faint smile on his face

"Not my fault," I slurred, already half asleep.

"Not here, Duncan. Come to the bed."

He hauled me up and brought me over to it. "Damn, you smell. Lie down, I have a surprise for you." He fumbled at my neck and the blasted chain was gone!

The relief was instantaneous. "How....?" I asked, rubbing at my neck wonderingly.

"Caspian passed out too, so I picked his pocket. I will copy the key, and return it. He's not the only metal worker here."

"He'll miss it."

"Not likely." He undid my ankle chains as well, and rubbed the flesh which had become irritated and sore from months of binding. "I'll have to put these back, you know that."

"Don't mind," I said drowsily.

I could feel him taking my soiled loincloth off me, and wiping me briefly with a cold wet cloth. _"Tapadh leat,"_ I said softly.

 _"'S e do hbeatha, mo leannan. Tha gaol agam ort."_ He got into bed with me, and held me.

My sleep was troubled and it was already late in the morning when I awoke - Methos had eaten breakfast. "I'm sorry...." I started to say, stumbling out of the bed, and wondering if I would be punished for omitting this basic duty. He rose and pushed me back on the bed.

"It's all right, Duncan. No one knows. Richard brought the meal, and water - he won't say anything. I think you better stay out of Kronos' way this morning."

My head felt woolly and my body still sore. "I don't know how much more of this I can take," I said to him, and he grimaced.

"I know. Duncan, we have a problem that is only going to get worse. Frankly, I don't know if we can solve it. Kronos has never been in a settled place for any length of time - we were nomads. He's restless, but he's unwilling to give up this keep. I thought I was doing the right thing to convince him to overwinter here, but as you have seen, he is bored and edgy - and thus very dangerous. If I convince him now to leave, he will kill everyone here. If he stays, he will likely kill many more slaves - you saved that girl's life last night, but you were lucky not to lose your head. We must find a way of distracting him."

"He seems to like playing with me." I saw the expression on Methos' face. "You think I should let him," I said slowly. "Methos... I will go mad, I think...."

" _Mo cridhe_ , I know. But the facts are these - he likes to torment, and if it is not you, it will be a mortal. Many mortals."

"For how long?" I asked, in desperation. "Do you want me to be his plaything for years?"

"Duncan... God, no... I don't know. I need time to plan, to work out things - he gives me little freedom, and I scarcely had the chance while Cassandra had me."

His eyes looked as desperate as I felt. "Can you bear it for a little longer? I don't put your life and happiness below other people, but the others - the slaves - they are innocent." He laughed dryly. "Listen to me. Time was when I would have slaughtered them all without a second's thought. Perhaps I have not changed for the better."

I took his hands and pulled him close to me. "No, Methos. You have changed, and for the good. I can see that. And yes, I can bear it."

"I cannot shield you, Duncan," he warned. "If he presses the issue, I may even have to participate. Can you bear that too?"

"I can, if you love me as you say."

He looked into my eyes. "I swear I am yours, body and soul, Duncan. I will do what I can to help you, and if dying will save your life, I will do that too."

"You say this? But you said you would discard me to save yourself."

"Perhaps you have changed me even more than I thought, Duncan MacLeod." He pushed some stray hairs off my face. "I wonder that Cassandra could have known you so long, and still been so evil."

"She was insane. Nothing could change her," I muttered. "Methos - you'll not go raiding again. Promise me."

"Duncan, I will do all in my power not to. I think I might be able to persuade Kronos that I can remain here and maintain his stronghold. If I give him plans...."

"But that's just as bad as raiding yourself!"

I pulled away from him but he held me firmly. "No, it's not. Kronos want to take, and he will do that anyway. I can at least ensure that the number of lives lost is reduced. People will die, Duncan. They will do that whether I help Kronos or not."

"Leave him. Escape with me."

"Perhaps." He would not promise me. "Come and eat, Duncan. Let us talk about something else."

Kronos sent for Methos late morning, and I did not see him again until supper. Dawson did not tell me of any further incidents, and said Kronos had not been seen all day, so I gathered Methos had managed to distract him for a while. But in the Hall, things went as badly as either of us feared. Kronos scowled when he saw me - my Immortality was both an attraction and an irritant for him, and while he seemed reluctant to kill me permanently, my good health after the abuse of the night before bothered him. "You, slave. Come here." I knelt before him, and he cuffed me. "Since you are so worried about the serving wenches, you can become one yourself. From now on, you will assist with the meal. Go."

I escaped to the kitchen, and brought out the trays with the other servants as I was ordered. This wasn't enough for Kronos - I had to hold his plate as he ate, and he used my hair as a napkin. Caspian seemed to have taken the events of the previous night as a licence to step up his torments, and he pinched and kicked me any time I came close. Methos was impassive, looking faintly bored, and never looked in my direction.

As one course finished, I cleared the Horsemen's plates onto a tray. As I took Caspian's, he suddenly stabbed me in the big muscle of my thigh, leaving the knife in place. I grunted and nearly dropped my burden. "Brother, I bet you five gold pieces he can't make it to the kitchen without falling," he said to Kronos.

"Done, brother. Off you go, slave."

I straightened with effort. The pain was excruciating, but worse, my leg was weakened. I took a step, and stumbled, righting myself just in time. I gripped the tray hard and shuffled. Every step, the knife tore in my leg a little more, and blood ran down freely. I gritted my teeth against the pain and my hands became slippery with sweat. I took a couple more steps, and stood, waiting for the agony to ease.

"Get on with it, slave," Kronos said menacingly.

I took another step - my leg began to tremble. I shuffled again, but my foot slipped on the stone floor from the blood. I fell hard, the tray crashing to the ground, and I clutched at my leg, trying not to yell. Almost instantly, my hair was twisted and pulled hard to make me stand. Kronos hissed in my face.

"You just lost me five gold pieces, slave. I'm going to take it out of your hide."

He dragged me to the table, swept it clear, and pulled me across it, holding me by my hair and my leash. "Silas, brother, the slave needs a whipping. Your belt will do the trick. Ten strokes for each gold piece."

"Aye, brother, " I heard Silas answer, and his chair pushed back. His meaty hands took off my loincloth, and then he struck me on the backside with his studded belt.

"Count them, boy," Kronos said, tugging on my hair.

"One," I gritted out. I remembered what Methos had said, and was only glad the man was not wielding a flail. It did not make much difference to the pain, and by the time he was finished my buttocks were bleeding and raw as minced meat. Kronos tied my leash to the table leg, and I was left in that position for the rest of the meal. Thankfully, no more abuse came my way, and Kronos seemed more cheerful.

When they were done, he said to Methos, "Do you really want that thing in your room? Let me send you up a nice fresh girl, brother."

"But, brother," Methos said persuasively, "he will be so obedient now. It's a shame to waste the value of your lessons."

"Oh? You were always so fastidious, Methos."

"People change, brother," Methos replied enigmatically. He untied my leash, and pulled the knife out of my leg. "Clean up that mess, boy, and come to my room with water. If you delay, you will think you have received nothing but a love tap until now."

"Yes, my lord." I picked up the broken crockery with hands that shook partly with relief that Methos had been able to rescue me from even worse, but mainly from the agony in my legs and backside.

"Next time, Caspian, wait until he's got empty hands. Plates are not cheap," I heard Methos say to Caspian, and the torturer giggled.

"For you, brother, I will. Perhaps I will win a bet against you tomorrow."

I took the tray of broken plates to the kitchen, still limping from the healing wounds. No one said anything - people were too terrified to comment on the barbarity they witnessed every day. I wondered if they were getting used to it - I did not think I ever would.

I collected the hot water and climbed the stairs to the bedroom. I set the water down, and leaned tiredly against the door. Methos took the water, filled the bath and made me sit in it while he washed my hair free of the grease and food left by Kronos' attentions, and the blood from my body. "No one else got hurt, at least," I mumbled. Methos leaned his forehead against mine, but said nothing. What could he say?

In a way, our plan worked. I became the Horsemen's favourite amusement, and Caspian's new game was popular. If he won, Kronos or Silas beat me - if Caspian lost, then he did. I think I preferred it when Caspian won - he did not restrict himself to simple beatings, and more than once, he raped me over the table in front of the entire assembly. I continued to serve the meals, but the kitchen staff was frightened of me - frightened that coming near me or talking to me might bring the abuse on their own heads. I could not tell them that there was less risk than before of this - not a single servant had been killed since Kronos began to torment me at dinner - and my Immortality meant that he would not tire of it easily. It seemed that public torture and humiliation appealed to him much more than private games in the bedroom - he never wanted me to service him in his rooms, although it was not uncommon for him to force me to suck him at the table.

We had some trouble with the mortal soldiers the Horsemen had brought with them, but the effort of disciplining them and training them at least kept our masters busy during the daylight hours. None of them spoke our language, and they kept to themselves, except when they wanted women. I think some of our female slaves found them slightly less odious than the Horsemen - to my mind, the only difference was their ability to die.

The Winter solstice, Christmas, Epiphany all came and went, but there were no celebrations for the heathen Horsemen or their slaves. The only blessing was that we had had a good harvest and food was plentiful enough. My fellow slaves were dispirited, and accepted their lot, but the capriciousness of our masters meant that no one could drop their guard. One girl killed herself after Caspian had her for the night, but the other women were prepared to endure. I ached for Richard - his fair looks made him a favourite of Silas who treated him reasonably, and occasionally of Kronos, who did not. Richard found the humiliation very hard, and I spent much of my free time trying to keep his morale up, just as Dawson did for me.

The old man perhaps had the easiest time for now - so long as food was prepared, and servants willing and obedient, he was left alone. He was thrashed once for a minor fault Kronos perceived, but other than that, he was only cuffed or hit as much, or as little, as the other servants. I think he suffered more distress on account of the other slaves, and of me, than he did for his own sake. I envied him the freedom to leave the castle, even under guard, and to see more than the walls of our prison. My world had been reduced to the bedroom and the dining hall, and all the torments these brought me. I longed to wear clothes again, to walk proudly among my fellow men and I yearned for the clean air of my homeland.

The winter wore on, and I wore out. I felt I was slowly losing my mind. My Immortality healed my body, but could do nothing about the nightmares, or the trembling and terrors that began to overtake me each evening as supper approached. I knew Methos was worried about me - I was losing weight from the constant demands of healing, and he was the one who held me at night as I twitched and cried out. More than once, he told me I was mumbling to myself as I went about my duties. The only thing that kept me half sane was talking to him about the things he had seen, places he had been. He let me build a little fantasy of a time when we would be free of the Horsemen, perhaps together. But he could not tell me if this would ever be.

The final thing that broke the dam was a night in February like so many that had gone before. I was very tired - the previous night I had been kept up until dawn by the Horsemen playing and carousing, and then I was told to work in the kitchens all day. I think it amused Kronos to think of me working almost nude, a man among women, doing women's chores. He came down twice to see me at it. Methos claimed me back for a couple of hours to 'attend' him, really to let me rest, but I was still exhausted when it came to serve the meal. As always, Caspian was quick to pick up on any weakness, and took much delight in tormenting me worse than usual. The time approached when he liked to play his game of forcing me to walk with a knife in one part of my body or another - this night, the devil in him chose the most painful, private place he could, and he stuck his dagger up my arse.

My scream stilled a hall well used to sounds of my distress. I fell to the floor, holding onto my head to stop myself pulling the thing out of me. Caspian yanked me up. "Come on, boy, you know how this is played."

I could not stay upright - the knife was buried deep in my bowels, and every slight movement tore them more. I began to be dizzy from the blood loss as well as the pain, and he lost patience when I refused to move. With a snarl, he threw me across the table, tore the knife from me, and fucked me.

"Silas, hold his mouth and shut him up."

Silas clamped his hand over my mouth, and held me against my struggles. All my training was forgotten - I had to get away from the agony, and I didn't care what new punishment it brought. But Caspian seemed to enjoy the way my body thrashed about under him, and he groaned with pleasure as he took me, his hot come inside me a fresh pain among so much else. He thrust the dagger back, and if Silas had not clamped my jaws shut, I would have bitten my tongue in two.

"Now that is what I call a sweet fuck, brothers," Caspian announced. "Since the boy won't behave, I make a new bet." There was a searing pain in one kidney, then the other - he had stabbed me through to the table, pinning me down. "He'll be dead before we finish eating."

"Ten gold pieces says he lasts until midnight, Caspian," Kronos said. "What say you, Methos?"

"I say this game is very dull, brother." Methos sounded bored.

"We can liven it up," Kronos said. "Silas, get out of the way." Then he was in front of me, holding my head up by the hair. "You're too messy to fuck in the other hole, slave. But this end is clean." He thrust into my mouth.

I began to panic and struggle against being choked. "Curse you! Stay still!"

Kronos gripped my head and held it painfully. "Brother, tie his arms behind him. "

Silas, or Caspian, I wasn't sure which, obeyed. "Better. Yes, he is a sweet fuck, if you can keep him quiet." He came in my mouth, and his come make me choke and cough. He struck me. "Not good enough for you, boy? Silas, perhaps you're more to his taste."

"No!" I tried to say, but it came out as a moan, which the big man's huge cock shut off as it jammed down my throat. The blood running from me left me breathless, and I almost passed out before Silas finished.

"I begin to see the attraction, brother, " Silas said. "A lovely mouth - better than any of my women."

"Perhaps you need to train them better, brother," Kronos said. "Methos, you want to take him? Oh, I forgot, you don't like an audience."

"People change," Methos said as he had before. "And I don't see why I should wait until later." He, like the others, grabbed my hair.

"No, Methos," I mumbled in protest, and he struck me.

"You take my name so freely, slave?"

There was a hot pain in my back, and then I could not feel any of the rest of it. I think he cut my spine - saving me by appearing to hurt me more. He thrust no more gently than the others, and slapped me when he was done. I felt that I was beginning to die - he had injured me severely. My bladder emptied, and my bowels loosened as I lost control over my body. "These games of yours are filthy, Caspian," Methos said disgustedly, "but I think you are going to win your bet."

"I think you cheated me, brother," Kronos said with a dangerous edge to his voice. As I slipped into death, I heard coins clinking - Methos compensating him for the lost wager.

I revived as Richard and Dawson were dragging me up the stairs. I was wet - I suppose someone had thrown a bucket of water over me to clean me. I got it into my head that I was being taken to be hurt again, and I began to struggle, trying to escape. I lashed out - I think I hit Richard - then a new pair of strong hands seized me and pulled me into Methos' room. As soon as I was freed, I crouched in a corner of the room, and wept, and shook with fear. Methos knelt before me, but I shied away from him. I begged him to kill me, I threatened to attack Kronos so he would be forced to take my head. No one but Methos could approach me - I was convinced that the other Horsemen were there, and would hurt me again, and I could not endure any more pain. Methos made me drink a cup of wine, and as I began to feel sleepy, and more calm, I realised he had drugged it. He gave me more, and covered me with a blanket where I huddled. Through the fog of the drug, I heard voices, and I began to panic, throwing the blanket off me. "Nay! No more! I can't!" Then Methos' hand were on me again, and his gentle voice was in my ear, speaking to me in the language of my mother, telling me I was safe, and to sleep. He held me until I passed out.

Someone was stroking my hair as I woke up in Methos' bed, confused and muddled from the dreams of Scotland which always seemed to end with Kronos killing all my family, and then me. "Methos?"

"No, it's me, Joseph. Rest, Duncan. It's all right." What was Joseph doing here? I struggled to sit up and he pushed me back down. "Stay in bed, Duncan. You need to sleep."

"Kronos will be angry," I said, my voice sounding distant to my ears.

"Methos is taking care of things. Calm yourself. He's been with you most of the day." He looked worried.

"Am I sick?" I didn't understand what was happening.

"You've taken on a great burden, my friend, and it has become too much. We owe you a lot."

I realised it was dark - had I slept all day? "Kronos... I have to go...." I started to rise but felt dizzy almost at once.

Dawson pushed me back again. "No, man. Will you listen to me? Methos is going to tell Kronos he is punishing you up here. I'll have to go down shortly now you are awake. You are to rest here. When the meal is nearly over, Methos will give a signal to me or Richard, and one of us will come and wake you. You are to get in position by the fireplace, and we will tie your hands. You have to pretend you have been there all day - do you understand?"

My mind was not working clearly. "Why?"

"Because we have asked too much of you, my friend." His rough hand fell on my forehead - it felt good there, I felt safe. "You must rest tonight, and tomorrow."

"I'll have to go back then." The thought made me shudder. "I can't, Joseph...." He gently brushed away the tears that had already started to fall.

"No, Duncan, Methos says not. You must trust him."

I was much too tired to argue. "I tried, Joseph... I tried to be strong... it's very hard... I'll do better...."

"You have done more than any man could ask for, Duncan. Please, stay still and rest now. Drink some more wine." I was thirsty, and grateful for the drink. It was drugged again, but I did not care.

"Joseph?"

"Yes, Duncan?"

"You must... protect them."

"I will, lad. Rest." I closed my eyes again.

It was he who woke me later, shaking me and speaking urgently. "Come on, Duncan, get up. They'll be here in a few minutes."

They? I got out of the bed, and drew up the covers. Dawson told me to kneel by the fireplace, my forehead on the floor, while he tied my hands behind my back. "Remember, you've been here all day."

"Go, Joseph. And thank you."

He slipped out. I think I had begun to doze when the Presence of two Immortals about to enter the room warned me. I carefully didn't look up. A foot caught me in the ribs, and Methos pulled me up by the hair. "Get out, slave. You're not needed tonight. And next time you cut me shaving, I'll cut your sorry throat." He made me stand, and I saw Kronos smirking at me. What was he doing there? Methos pushed me out the door and slammed it. I stumbled downstairs to the kitchen, and found Dawson there. He cut the bonds on my hands, and gave me some food.

"What's going on, Joseph?"

He bid me stay silent, and not until he took me to his room where a pallet lay before the fire for me, did he tell me what had happened at supper. "Methos began to flirt with Kronos, and the fool fell for it. By the end of the meal, they were kissing, and Methos asked him to come spend the night with him."

"Methos? With Kronos? No!" The thought was too horrible.

Dawson gripped my arm. "Will you be quiet, man?" he said harshly. "Methos is giving himself to Kronos to distract him."

"Because I failed," I said. "This can't go on."

"Duncan, you have done all you can. Any more of their games and we will lose you to madness, and Kronos will take your head. Methos knows what he's doing"

I slumped on the pallet. The thought of Kronos brutalising that slim, pale body made me sick. "We are in Hell, Joseph."

"That we are, lad. I pray each night for deliverance." But where was God's mercy, if he let a man like Kronos live for thousands of years, and good men like Dawson die in three score and ten? "Duncan, you must rest. Methos has bought you a little time, but we have need of you and your strength, and your bravery. Do not think about this."

Wise words, but impossible to obey. I lay on the pallet, my body comfortable and my mind in turmoil. My weariness meant I slept eventually, but my dreams tormented me. Once more it was Dawson who woke me. "Hurry, Duncan. Methos has asked for water and for his breakfast. Richard will help you take it up."

The rest had done me some good, and I could face the servants in the kitchen calmly as I collected the food. Methos waited until Richard left the room before he spoke, but he did not approach me. "Are you well, Duncan?" He locked the door, and looked at me.

"Yes, thanks to you, Methos." I set the tray down and stood in front of him. " _Ciamar a tha thu?_ " I said softly. He looked tired, and solemn.

" _Tha gu math._ " He took a cup of wine, swirled it in his mouth, and spat it out. "God, I spent two thousand years trying to get the taste of that man's come out of my mouth."

"Wine is not enough, I find." We looked at each other. "So we are both Kronos' whores now."

He stiffened at that. "Are you judging me, Highlander?"

"Nay, Methos. I know why you did what you did, and I am grateful. But will you let him fuck you to save me?"

He grabbed my arms and shook me hard. He seemed angry. "Yes, Duncan, I will. Like you let him kill and torture and rape you to save the others. You think that only you are allowed to suffer? You think I want you to go mad? That I can watch your soul be swallowed up in this insanity and lift not a finger to help? I cannot - not any more," he said in despair.

"Methos, _mo cridhe_ , be still. _Tha mi duilich._ " I put my arms around him. "We are a pair, are we not?"

"Thank God, not a breeding pair," he joked. "Oh Duncan, the day I came here was an evil one for all of us, except that I met you. Are you truly well?"

"I am rested, and hale in body. I'm sorry I let you down...."

He leaned back and looked at me critically. "Your mind is still confused, it seems, Highlander. It is I and my charming brothers who brought you to that pass, not you. I don't know how you lasted so long."

"Methos, when can we leave?"

"Soon, _mo leannan_. I promise. Now, will you eat?"

He fed me from his own hand, and washed me. I bathed him, and brushed out his hair. I tried not to think of Kronos' hands on him, but the images were irresistible, crowding into my mind. He seemed to know what was troubling me. "Kronos means nothing to me, Duncan. I hate him as much as you - perhaps more. I've had more practice."

"I know." I braided his hair and dressed him. "I wish I could wear clothes again," I said, touching the fabric.

"Duncan, sit by me. I did not want to say anything until the arrangements were all complete, but I plan for you to leave this very week."

"So soon? But what about the others?"

"You have done all you can, heart. Now I must distract Kronos and hope it will be enough. You and I can do only so much."

"You aren't coming with me," I said flatly. "Methos, I cannot leave you with that monster."

"Duncan, you must. That monster is the price I pay for my crimes - you have no reason to be punished. My love, I grow afraid for you - I think he will drive you mad or he will take your head."

"But Dawson, Richard...."

"They will be under my care. I will ensure they don't take any blame for your escape. I will try to take Richard as my personal slave. It's all I can do."

His words disheartened me, even though I rejoiced at the thought of leaving this hell. "How?"

"Dawson has been passing messages to the charcoal burner, Samson, who lives in the woods nearby. You know him?"

"Aye. He's crazed."

"So he seems, but he's not as crazed as all that. You must go to him - he will shelter you, and smuggle you to the first town where you are not known. I will give you enough gold so you can buy a horse, and I will give you a sword."

"Why have you waited so long?"

"Because it has taken all my time to arrange this, and I wanted to know Kronos would be occupied. Now, I can ensure that. We need to make sure the weather is right too - we want a night with some moonlight, and snow to come, to hide your tracks. You are used to travelling through the snow?"

"Yes, of course. How will I get over the walls?"

"Do you remember the attic room where Caspian...." I nodded. "Yes, you would. There is another set of stairs to it, from the kitchen. Only I, Dawson and now you know about it. On the night that seems most suitable, I will tell you to go to the kitchen after we finish eating - I will say I do not need you, as I did last night. You will go to Dawson's room, and wait until everyone is asleep. He will show you where to go - he has the clothes, sword, and gold. You go to the attic, and out onto the roof. There is a rope in that room - use it to descend the wall. Dawson will hide it so no one will know how you got out."

"Will I see you again?" His earth coloured eyes were sad, and held a world of wisdom and pain in them as he looked at me.

"Probably not, _mo cridhe_. It's for the best. If you go, I hope I can convince Kronos you're not worth chasing. If I have to, I'll admit to helping you...."

I was panicked at the very idea. "No! He'll kill you!"

"Not permanently," he laughed a little. "Kronos will never kill me for good. He may make life unpleasant for a while - I'll endure. And then he'll forgive me, he always does. I cannot say the same if he ever encounters you again, which is why you and I will have to part."

"Methos...." I put my arms around him. "Is there no other way?"

"I've been thinking for months about it, heart. I can't think of another - if you can, please tell me."

He was right - his plan was better than anything I had conceived, and carried the least risk to other people. "I hated you so much that day... now I don't know how I will live without you," I said.

"You just do. You live, grow stronger, fight another day. The alternative is unthinkable." He cupped my face gently, and kissed me, and I could not help but respond. The act of love between two men had become hateful to me, but there was no aggression, no violence in his touch, and his lips were sweet as honey. He trailed tickling fingers down my ribs, and I laughed. He swallowed my laughter in another kiss, and smiled. He bent and sucked gently at my nipple, and my cock began to harden.

"Methos...."

"Tell me to stop, Duncan, for I cannot unless you do. I want you. Let us have this - forget everything else."

"I'll not tell you to stop." I put my hand at the back of his neck, and brought him close. "Thou are fair, mine own."

"Duncan... _tha gaol agam ort_...." he said huskily.

"And I thou." He'd told me he'd loved me a dozen times, but I could not answer him, until now. Now, I knew. " _Tha gaol agam ort, mo cridhe_ ."

He stood and took my hand. "Will you let me make love to you, Duncan MacLeod?"

"Aye, Methos."

He led me to the bed, and took my loincloth off. I lifted his tunic, and bared him. He pushed me onto the bed and knelt over me, between my legs, so that he could lave my nipples with his hot tongue. I held his shoulders - it had been so long since I had made love. I had felt nothing but pain for so long, nothing but violence and beatings, that I had almost forgot what real desire felt like. My cock remembered though, remembered Methos' sweet mouth, and strained towards him. He licked his way down my stomach and the first feel of his lips on me almost make me yell. Only knowing that we must be discreet kept me quiet. He cupped a hand under my balls and held them as he sucked and licked. "Methos!" I cried out quietly. He lifted his head. "Don't stop, for pity's sake!"

He smiled and bent to his task. I reached for his hair binding, and pulled it loose so I could run my hand through his silky hair. "Methos," I murmured over and over. My body, unused to pleasure, seemed to liquefy and pool at my groin. I became nothing but a single point of pleasure, white hot and burning me until there was nothing left as I came, my vision darkening and my breathing almost too fast to sustain. "My God, Methos...." I whispered.

He lay beside me and put his head on my shoulders. "You are sweet, Duncan. You taste of life." He kissed me, and I could taste myself. I was not as sweet as him.

"I love you," I said softly.

"As do I you, forever." He lay with me for several minutes, until I remembered that he was unsatisfied. I shifted to return the favour, but he stopped me.

"No, Duncan, you have had too much of that recently. I will not ask that of you."

"But you...."

"Have another way. Lie still." He moved until he was on top of me, and then he thrust his cock against my stomach. I thought it could not be pleasurable, but his face was ecstatic. He looked utterly beautiful, a little wild, his hair hanging down around his thin face. He looked into my eyes the whole time, only closing them as he came, his hot seed spurting onto my skin. He lowered himself gently down, and I put my arms around him.

" _Mo leannan_ ," I whispered.

"Always, Duncan. Always."

We could only allow ourselves a few minutes - the other Horsemen would be stirring, and we could not risk Kronos finding us like this. He got up reluctantly, cleaned himself and dressed. I put on my loincloth, and made sure I was tidy. "Shall I fetch Dawson?"

He nodded. I picked up the breakfast tray and made to leave. He put his hand on my arm. "Heart, whatever you see with Kronos tonight, and this week - remember what my true feelings are. Trust me, what I say here, not what your eyes tell you." He kissed me. "Now go, my love."

When I brought Dawson to Methos' room, Kronos was there, with his arms around Methos and kissing him. He ignored our approach and we knelt respectively, keeping our eyes to the ground, knowing better than to show any response to what we saw. Kronos broke the kiss eventually, pinched Methos' backside and scowled at us. "What do you two want?"

"They're here at my command, brother. There is still a castle and keep to run, you know," Methos said placatingly.

"Damn thing - I should burn it to the ground," he growled, and my heart froze.

"Shame to waste such a prize, brother," Methos said calmly. "Especially one so well fortified, and in such an excellent position. You don't think Cassandra stayed safe for all this time by luck, do you?"

"She was a witch."

"She was a woman, Kronos. A desirable, wealthy one - and yet no neighbour overran her. Imagine having a permanent stronghold where you can overwinter, store your booty. One with trained, obedient slaves, comfortable beds, and large stables. Camelot for a king."

"You've grown lazy, brother. You don't like the raiding any more."

"I've lost my taste for it a little over two thousand years, brother. But I can keep this treasure for you, and we can share it as we share everything else."

Kronos laughed, and slapped Methos on the back. "All right, brother. You've convinced me. You mind the house, we'll bring home the goods. I can always burn it down later. Now, I have things to do. I will see you later, Methos."

"Yes, brother. I will wait for you," Methos said silkily, and Kronos smiled. He gave me a kick as he walked out.

Methos closed the door.

"Well, Dawson, I trust you are relieved to hear all that?"

"Yes, my lord. I wonder that...."

"What, man?" Methos was already sitting at his desk.

"I wonder that Lord Kronos trusts you - since you left before."

"Lord Kronos trusts me as far as I trust him - that is to say, not at all. He will make sure I cannot leave. It's not your concern. Dawson, I've told Duncan of my plan to let him escape."

Dawson looked a little worried. "Is it not too soon, lord? The weather...."

"The weather is perfect. You and Duncan arrange the things you need to - Samson expects you any time now, Duncan."

I turned to my old friend. "Joseph, I am sorry to leave you here like this."

"Lord Methos offers me his protection, Duncan. I am happy with that."

Methos looked faintly amused. "I find it strange, the trust I inspire in some people." Dawson looked alarmed. "Worry not, friend Joseph. I gave you my word, and to Duncan. Even if the only kindness I can offer you is a merciful death, I will give you that."

I started to protest but Dawson held up his hand. "Duncan, I am fifty. I never thought to live so long. All I want is to live peacefully - I would rather die at this man's sword than live in torment as you have these last few months. I am not Immortal - I cannot survive such torture, nor do I want to."

"You must live, old man," I said fiercely, grasping his arm.

He laughed at me. "So old, and yet so young, Duncan. Don't worry about me. You save yourself, and we will take much comfort in that."

Methos put a stop to our discussion. "Men, we have other things to talk about."

Knowing that I might have only days left in the castle made me strangely sad, for there was much, I realised, that I did not know about Methos, and that I wished to know. He was an enigma to me - capable of great cruelty in one moment and gentleness in the next, a man who had travelled far, but who had been a slave for a thousand years. Someone who could give his body to torture or to loveless sex, but who could keep his mind unfettered. There was so much in him to love, so much to fear - and in a short time, I must forget him as I left. As I listened to him discuss with Dawson the problems of spoiled stores, the management of the slaves, the design of a new stable, I thought he should have been born a prince with his mind, his manners and his ability to command. And here he was, a slave in spirit, if not in name, to the Horsemen, as we all were, with no hope of escape.

As Dawson left, I took Methos' hands. "Come with me, my love. You deserve a better life."

"No, Duncan," he said gently. "You will make me angry if you keep on with this. I must stay, and that is all there is to be said. I will think of you back in Scotland, and that will please me."

"It does not seem just."

"Justice and the Horsemen have never been friends, Highlander. And I am a Horseman, for my sins. Now, we should eat, and talk no more of this."

He would not be persuaded. Instead, he bid me talk to him of my home again. I learned that he was taught his Gaelic by a monk, that he had been a monk for a hundred years, strange as it seemed. He had been a doctor too. "That is how you knew how to ease the pain the other night?"

"Aye, Duncan. Only an Immortal would thank me for paralysing them, though."

"If you could leave, what would you do? What do you want from life?"

He smiled. "The same as you, or Dawson. Peace, a warm body beside me, someone who loves me, enough food to keep my stomach full, and enough books to keep my mind busy. Nothing very remarkable."

"Kronos wants power."

"That he does - but it brings him no happiness. The pity is that he never sees it - he just yearns for more and more. He could have been a great man, if he had more vision than he does, but he is condemned by his nature to destroy, to hurt, and to wander looking for fresh prey to sate his desires. He is not a stupid man, mark you. Never make the mistake of thinking he is."

"I do not. I fear him."

"So you should. So all men should. But I do not wish to talk about him."

We spent a quiet afternoon together, by the fire, talking, caressing, giving love in our small touches. We were not interrupted, which was a minor miracle, but eventually the supper hour approached.

"I will have to go to the kitchen, Methos," I said rising, then I remembered. "Caspian... I cannot...." I lowered my eyes, ashamed at my weakness.

Methos touched my face. "He will not harm you again, Duncan. I give you my word. Just remember what I said before."

"I remember - whatever I see, you love me, not him."

"That's it. Now, you had better go."

Despite his reassurance, I felt my stomach surging at the thought of facing my torturers in the hall. I was ignored as I placed the plates in front of them, and took my place behind Methos. Kronos, it seemed, had eyes only for his new lover, and he spent a great deal of time touching him with his hands and his booted foot, and feeding Methos. Methos kept one hand on his brother's crotch, rubbing it, and as the meal progressed, I saw him unlace the breeches and take the man's sex out to stroke it under the table. Kronos pretended a lack of interest, but I saw his colour rise, and his breathing catch. Caspian noticed too, and it was then that he decided I was to play my normal role. "Come here, slave," he ordered. I started to walk to him with shaking legs, but Methos put his hand on me.

"No, Caspian. Enough. I'm sick of my slave being returned in a condition unfit for a pig, even if you find it acceptable."

Caspian stood and kicked over his chair. "You called me a pig before, Methos. Maybe you need to be taught some manners. " He started towards Methos, but Kronos leapt up.

"Enough!" he roared. He had somehow got his cock back in his trousers, but he was annoyed at being interrupted. "Caspian, do as Methos asks. You've had your fun. Your games are boring. Leave the slave alone, and his master also, or you'll answer to me."

"Got you on a short leash, hasn't he, brother?" Caspian sneered.

Kronos grabbed his arm, twisted it behind him and forced him down on the table, his knife at his ear.

"You like to play, brother? How far can you walk with this up your arse, hmmm? Do you want to try?"

"No, brother," Caspian said hastily. "My apologies." Kronos let him go, and the man resumed his seat with nothing more than a glare at me. My legs felt weak at the unexpected reprieve - I never thought Methos would be able to stop this sadist.

Methos leaned over and whispered in Kronos' ear and Kronos smiled, then pulled him towards him for a deep kiss. Caspian scowled, Silas smiled benignly.

They all got very drunk - even Methos, although I think he was not as drunk as he pretended - and it was midnight before they rose, and allowed the rest of the assembly to go to their beds. Methos ordered me to the kitchens, but Kronos stopped him. "No, brother, I want more wine. Let him bring it."

"Yes, my lord Kronos," I said. I bowed and left.

Kronos had half stripped Methos when I came to the room, and as I handed him a cup of wine, he poured a little on Methos' pale chest, then licked it up. Methos' eyes were closed, so I could not tell what he was thinking. Kronos knelt and untied his breeches, and poured more wine over Methos' privates. He slurped and sucked, but did not take his sex into his mouth. Methos wrapped his arms around Kronos and pulled him up to kiss him.

"I want your mouth, brother," Kronos said. Methos sank gracefully to his knees, released Kronos'cock, and began to mouth it. "Boy, prepare him."

I stared at Kronos, not quite sure what he meant. "Grease him, you fool!"

God, I did not want to do this to Methos. The humiliation was too much to force on him, but I had no choice. Then and there I made the decision that I would make love to Methos through this act - in my mind, there would just be the two of us. I hoped he would understand.

I got the pot of goose grease which I had kept ready ever since Kronos had taken me as slave, and knelt down behind Methos. He gave no sign of noticing me. I greased a finger and touched his hole.

"Hurry up, boy, don't sit there playing with him," Kronos muttered.

I penetrated Methos, and felt him stiffen slightly - was I hurting him? I greased him well, and stretched him with another finger, then moved away, kneeling and keeping my head bent.

"Brother, you have the mouth of an angel. But your arse beckons me."

I did not dare look, but I was given no choice. "Slave, come here," Kronos ordered.

I looked up, and he was fucking Methos slowly, one arm wrapped around the slender waist, the other in his hair. Methos' head was thrown back onto Kronos' shoulder. I knelt again by Kronos. "Pleasure your master, boy."

I got in front of Methos, and looked up. He gazed down at me, and I saw a flicker of sorrow in his eyes. I touched his limp cock gently, and took him into my mouth. I was determined to give him some pleasure from this, if I could, even though I ached for him. Kronos' thrusts made it hard to be gentle and to avoid scraping the delicate skin with my teeth. Methos took a long time to become hard, but Kronos was in no hurry, grunting as he slammed over and over into him. The man had not an ounce of tenderness in him, and his lovemaking was as he was - brutal and unpleasant. He groaned and pulled out - Methos had not come yet. I was not sure what I should do. I stopped, and Methos looked down. There was love as well as weariness in his hazel eyes.

Kronos seized my hair. "Who told you to stop, boy?" he shouted, and pushed my face back into Methos' crotch. He picked up the grease pot, put some on his hand and moved behind Methos. I felt my lover stiffen and shudder. I could not see what Kronos was doing, but Methos' cock went limp again - I feared he was being hurt.

"Been a while, brother?"

"Some time, brother," Methos said in a strained voice.

"I would cut the hand off of any man who put his fist inside you, Methos. This is mine."

"Yes, brother."

My God - the man had his hand in Methos' arse! Methos spread his legs a little, and I could feel his stomach muscle tightening - Kronos may have thought this was pleasurable, but Methos' body was telling me how much it hurt. I concentrated on his cock, hoping to distract him from the pain. Methos' body began to rock as Kronos forced his hand in and out, and Methos groaned.

"Good, yes, brother? You love my hand, don't deny it. You love my big cock, and my big hand. You love to suck me, don't you, brother?"

"Yes, Kronos," Methos said, then moaned again.

I suppose that Kronos thought it was a moan of ecstasy, for he never let up on his fucking. Suddenly, Methos let out a cry, as if he had orgasmed, and I pretended I was swallowing - I knew at once what he was doing, Kronos would not stop until he thought Methos had come. I held Methos' cock in my mouth long enough that its softness might seem natural, then I knelt back. Methos groaned again as Kronos' fist was pulled out of his body.

"That was good, brother?" Kronos asked, sounding pleased with himself.

"Yes, brother. Thank you." Methos' voice betrayed nothing of the pain I knew he'd felt during the assault.

"Fetch a cloth and clean us, slave," Kronos said.

I got a damp towel, and wiped his filthy hand and his cock. I threw the cloth away and got another to wash Methos - there was blood and come on his thighs, and he winced as I touched him.

"Do that gently, slave!" Kronos bellowed, and cuffed me, as if it were I who had brutalised his brother. I finished, and Kronos demanded more wine for them both. I served them, then knelt by the fireplace and waited for more orders. Kronos led Methos to the bed and pushed him down to kiss him.

"I missed you, brother. A thousand years and more without you and your lovely body. No one is as sweet as you, Methos."

"Thank you, brother. I never forgot you either," Methos said in an even tone.

Kronos stroked Methos' face in the gentlest gesture I had ever seen him use. "You look weary, brother. Are you well?"

"Yes, brother. I am tired, though. You take a lot of energy."

Kronos laughed and slapped Methos' thigh. "I wore the old man out!" He kissed Methos again, and rose. "Perhaps I will sleep alone, brother, and let you rest."

Methos sat up, took Kronos' hand to his lips and kissed it. "Perhaps I could come to you tomorrow, brother? What say you?"

"Yes, Methos, that would do." He got up. "Until tomorrow then." He looked over the lean body. "Slave, your master needs a bath."

"Yes, my lord Kronos." I left hastily to find water.

Fortunately, the kitchen had hot water on hand at all hours - the staff had got used to the Horsemen's requests at strange times, and although it was very late, I was able to bring a couple of buckets up to the room. Methos had pulled a robe about him, and was kneeling by the fireplace, poking the fire when I got back. I put the buckets down, and came and knelt by him. " _Mo leannan_?" I said softly. He turned and I put my arms around him. I felt his body shaking. "You are hurt?"

"A little. He has big hands. I'll heal."

"I'm sorry, _mo cridhe_ \- for what I did...."

He put a finger on my lips. "No, you did nothing I did not welcome from you, Duncan. I would like that bath, if I may."

I filled the tub, and he eased into it, hissing a little as abused muscles hit the water. I soaped him and cleaned him, and held his hand. "I wish you had not seen that, Duncan," he said sadly.

"I wished I had not, either. It makes it harder for you."

"That's why he does it. He knows I hate to be watched."

"So you have not changed so much?" I said.

He thought a moment before remembering to what I referred. "Not in that, Highlander. In much else, perhaps in everything else." He sat up and put his elbows on his bony knees. "Duncan, tomorrow is the night."

He took me by surprise. "So soon?"

He smiled. "I do not understand you, heart. For months you have dreamed of escape, and now you complain?"

"No, I do not complain, only... I will miss you, Methos."

"As I will you, Duncan. But it must be this way, and tomorrow will be an ideal opportunity. The weather looks right, Kronos will be distracted. If not tomorrow, perhaps the next. You must be ready to go."

He rose from the bath and I dried him. He was healed from the injuries Kronos had given him, but I could still hear the sound of the man's fist entering him and pulling out. I pulled him close.

"Will you remember me?" I asked.

"Duncan, I could not forget you if I tried for a thousand years. Nor would I try. Take me to bed and hold me, Highlander. I want that memory too."

And so I did, his warm skin on mine, his soft hair under my chin, long arms held around me tightly. I could not sleep easily for thinking this was our last night together. How my life had changed. A slave and an overseer one minute, a whore the next, but I had been given the gift of knowing him. Would I trade the one for the other? I did not know - the time under the Horsemen had been brutal beyond words, and I could not go through that again, I felt. But leaving Methos was going to be the hardest thing of all.

The last day in the castle, I spent mostly with Dawson, talking about where I would go and what we would both do when I had gone. I really was sorry to leave him. I wished I could say goodbye to Richard, but it was better he did not know of the plan. I spent some time talking to him. He was in low spirits - I hoped being given to Methos might improve things. In his state of mind, I could not tell him the other great secret - that he was pre-Immortal. I feared that if he learned he could not die, it would drive him mad with despair. I could only hope that by the time he died his first death, life would have improved. There were others I would be sorry to leave - young Maya, who had taken my place as Methos' slave for two nights, had formed something of a bond with me. One or two other women - unfortunately the girl that had been given to Methos hated me for my role that night, and would not listen to any explanations. But good or bad, friend or foe, I had to leave them behind.

Things went as Methos said. He dismissed me to the kitchen, and when Kronos wanted wine, was able to say that some had been placed in his room. I hid in Dawson's room, dressed and waited until all was quiet, then we two crept up the secret passage that Methos had found in his exploring. I feared that Kronos would sense me since the stairs passed near his room, but no one called out or came. I forced aside some tiles on the roof, and climbed out. Dawson handed me the rope.

"God speed, young friend," he said, clasping my hand.

"And you, Joseph. Fare thee well."

I crawled to the edge of the roof, and swung down. Methos had planned well - the sharply cold weather kept the guards inside, and no one saw me descend the wall. I tugged it hard to signal to Dawson to pull it up, and then let go.

I was free for the first time in nearly eleven years. Clothed, with a sword on my back, and money of my own. I felt like a god.

 

* * *

There was a full moon but it clouded over quickly with the clouds that would drop the snow to cover my passing. Once away from the castle, I could risk a lantern to guide my steps. I knew the woods somewhat, and Dawson had arranged with Samson to lay a cryptic trail for me. It was bitterly cold, and the snow was deep on the ground. Methos had provided me with well-made warm clothing, a heavy fur trimmed cloak, and solid boots, so I was as well prepared as a man could be. It had started to snow by the time I found the old man's hut, hidden deep in the woods. I entered, and called out Samson's name softly.

"Is that the Highlander?"

I could not tell where his voice was coming from. "Aye. Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. Where are you, Samson?"

He stepped out behind me, frightening me nearly to death. "Did I startle you, boy?" he drawled, knowing full well he had.

He lit a candle and I could see him - he was as begrimed and sooty as I remembered.

"My thanks for laying the path, Master Samson. I found it easily."

"It won't be there in the morning, boy. Can't have your nice friends coming and dropping in. You can sleep by the fire. There's water in the bucket - you brought some food?"

"Yes." I handed him the loaf of bread that Dawson had packed for me, and he tore it in half, handing me back a piece.

"Don't get bread much," he said by way of explanation, and he chewed on it hungrily.

I sat by the meagre fire, wrapped in my cloak. The hut reminded me a little of some of the poorer ones back in Glenfinnan, and I felt at ease here. Samson climbed onto his cot, and pulled his blankets over him. I lay down, and slept the sleep of a free man, but dreamed of my time as a slave - and of Methos.

The old man was gone when I awoke, and I was worried until I remembered what he said about the signs being gone in the morning. I looked out and I saw his path, but not my own - the snow had obliterated the sign of my passing, just as Methos said, and I thanked him once again in my head. He had also told me that Kronos has a superstitious fear of forests, which he hoped would deter him from looking for me in the deep woods. I looked about - there was a structure some distance from the hovel, which I presumed was where Samson burnt his charcoal, and a shoddy stable where he kept his donkey.

The hut was very small but snug. Samson sold charcoal to the castle - it was clear he did not grow rich by it, but equally he attracted no attention and no envy. He was not the only person who lived in the woods, but one could live a lifetime there, and not encounter another soul - if one wanted. I went back inside and rebuilt the fire, and put on some oats to make our porridge. Methos had provided me with food for several days - or fewer, if shared between two men. Samson had also been given money to buy some provisions, but I supposed we would live off the woods, as he did. I was well used to it, and looked forward to it. I relished the idea of fending for myself for a change, making my own decisions, and choosing how and where I sat or ate or slept. Being a slave was like being a child - I hadn't been a child for a very long time, and I wished never to be a slave again.

Samson appeared at the door, and headed to the fire. "Cold as witches nipples out there, boy."

I gave him a bowl of porridge and he ate like one who had not seen food for a week. "Good, good," he muttered, then licked the bowl clean. I offered him more. "Nay, boy, don't be so free with it. We're not in your fine castle now."

"You think I was overfed, Samson?" I said, thinking of days when I was lucky to get breakfast, and scraps only for my supper. I had become very skinny to my own eyes.

He pinched my wrist, and felt my arm. "Plenty of meat on you yet." He sat back with a cup of water in his hand. "You want to leave, I hear."

"More than anything. When do you think I can go?"

He rubbed his bearded chin. I saw that under the hair, and the grime, he wasn't as old as all that - maybe only forty. He just seemed ancient. "In a few weeks, if the weather is good. Have to make a lot of charcoal before then - you can help."

"Aye. But then?"

"You have gold, yes? You buy a horse and make your escape."

"How long have you been planning this, Samson?"

He cackled. "Oh, a long time, boy. Yon Methos is a cunning bugger. Passing messages back and forth, back and forth. Very careful is that man. Bears watching."

"You know him?"

"Know of him, know of him. Heard about the new slave in town, who became a master. Cunning bugger," he said again, with obvious admiration.

His words brought the man himself clearly to mind, and I was hit with a wave of sadness and longing. I hid my feelings.

"So, when do we start work?" I asked with forced cheerfulness.

He clapped his hands together. "Now. Leave that fancy cloak behind." I hid it and my sword under his cot - if anyone came while we were out then they would not know I had been here.

"There is one thing I want to do before we go." I took my dagger, and twisting my hair into a tail, I sliced it off. It had been used for too long to pull me about, and now reminded me strongly of my slavery. Samson looked at the hank of hair in my hand, and took it off me, storing it carefully to use for God knows what.

"Your neck will be cold," was his only comment.

So it was, but it felt good. We worked hard, collecting fallen branches, chopping up the occasional dead tree and hauling them back to his burner. When it was full, he would ignite it and make the charcoal, but that would take several days he said, before we filled it. We also checked his snares, and found a fine hare in one. He said he trapped anything he could - birds, rabbits, foxes, stoats - although he never took the deer, since that was the prerogative of the castle lord. He pretty much lived hand to mouth. He had laid in stores of flour and dried peas and beans, and had set aside apples and cherries to dry. He had some root vegetables laid down too, and some cheese. We would wait for the snows to melt a little in a month or so before I left, and for any hue and cry about my disappearance to die down.

When it grew dark, we came inside, glad of the fire. He dressed the hare and butchered it for a stew. Once it was on to heat, he went out and checked on his donkey. I tended the stew and warmed up. It had been a while since I had done such a hard day's work, and I was tired, but in a good way. He returned and sat waiting for the food to be ready, carving a piece of wood with a little knife. "You dream a lot, boy. Nasty things. Shouting and crying."

"I'm sorry."

He squinted at me. "Treat you badly, did they?"

"They treat everyone badly." I said bitterly. "They are evil incarnate."

"They will rule the world, men like that."

I snorted. "They can't even rule their own appetites. They are men of little vision." I remembered what Methos said about Kronos. "They seek what they already have, and despise true happiness."

"Sound like fools. You know what you want, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod?"

"I want to be free."

"Free to do what, Duncan MacLeod?"

"Free to live in peace. Just as you do."

"Took me a long time to do that, boy. Had to convince everyone I was mad. You thought I was, didn't you?'

"Aye, Samson, you fooled me. Fooled everyone."

"Didn't fool Methos. He knew as soon as he saw me. Dangerous fella."

There were minor chores to carry out - traps to mend, darning of hose, and I scraped the hare skin ready to be stretched in the morning. It felt good to be able to sit without bonds, or fear, by a fire, and carry out such honest tasks. It was no way to live, being a slave used for sex and abuse - my mind would have died if it were not for Methos.

Methos. Every thought came back to him. Although I knew I had had little choice but to leave without him - to stay would have meant madness or death - I felt it was wrong that he was still trapped. I knew the arguments, I knew his reasons, and I knew his decision. But I still wished it were otherwise. I had so resented being made to sleep with him at first, and now I missed it. Never to hold that long, deceptively strong body, never to touch that sleek skin, or the wonderful hair - to hear the deep, rich voice, and to see his changeable eyes. And worse - to know the man who did have access to Methos, and who so abused such a prize.

I remembered my last words with him. "Goodbye, Highlander," Methos had said, and kissed me gently.

"You mean 'good luck', don't you?" I did not care for the finality of 'goodbye'.

He looked wistful, sad. "Yes, Duncan. Of course, I mean 'good luck'."

And that was all. He could not speak to me privately in the hall, but as he bid me go to the kitchen for the night, there was the briefest look of hopelessness in his eyes before they went cold as he was wont to appear when with his 'brothers'. For that look, I would have turned back and declared I would not leave - but that would have done so much harm for so little good. His eyes haunted me.

"Dark thoughts, Duncan MacLeod. You must forget all that now. You have a new life to start," Samson broke in, not unkindly.

"Yes, I know." I pulled my cloak around me. "I think I will sleep now, Samson."

The man grunted and shortly he was in his cot, snoring. I took longer to find oblivion, and the dreams were unkind once again.

For a month we continued in this way. I learned the art of charcoal burning - a messy chore. Samson put me in charge of food gathering, and I think I taught him a little. We never saw anyone, certainly no horsemen, and the weather stayed sharp enough to deter a thorough search of the dense forest. Samson made two journeys to the castle to sell his charcoal, and reported that all was quiet, and nothing out of the ordinary, although he had not had a chance to speak to Dawson. Several people mentioned that I had gone, but there was no sense of panic among the slaves, so I guessed they had not suffered because of my leaving.

All that month, I thought about the future, and slowly, I came to the decision that there was none I wanted without Methos in it. I could not be happy while he was bound, and I had abandoned my friends shamefully. The day Samson declared I could leave, I told him. "You're out of your head, Duncan," he said, open-mouthed in shock. "You want to go back? After your Methos spent months getting you out?"

"I have to, Samson. I cannot live without honour, and running away is dishonourable."

"Being dead is bloody honourable - I'd be shamed and alive, if I had the choice. What can you do? One man, one sword, no horse - you are as crazed as people think I am," he said with disgust.

He was probably right. "I do not know what I can do, but I have to do it. The Horsemen leave in the spring, and Methos is to stay and guard the castle. I can wait until then."

"Even if you stay, boy, I cannot keep you. I can barely keep myself." This was true.

"I do not ask for your living, Samson. I will make a shelter of my own, and fend for myself. You can have my gold if it helps."

"Gold," he muttered. "What use is that to me? Can't eat it, can't even spend it - what do you think people will say when they see mad Samson with gold, eh? That I stole it - or got it from a certain missing slave. And you'll live in the woods, stealing my game, and finding my berries. You may as well steal them from my plate."

"No, Samson, I swear I will not," I said, stung by the accusation. I will offer you anything I find, and I can find enough for two - we've not done badly these last weeks."

"I suppose that's true," he grumbled.

"As for the gold - you are going to the castle again soon, are you not?"

"Maybe." He looked at me suspiciously. "I'm not taking you with me, boy."

"No, no, I don't mean that. But if you speak to Dawson, or a slave girl called Maya, they will give you coppers for gold. I will give you a note for Joseph."

"All very well, Duncan, but you still haven't told me what you mean to do."

I took a deep breath and announced, "I am going to free the castle from the horsemen."

Samson laughed out loud. "You're daft as a brush, boy," he chortled. Then he stood. "All right - do what you will, I cannot stop you. Here."

Puzzled, I watched him dig out an old chest he had at the end of his bed, and which was usually covered with his few belongings. He opened it, and I saw a helmet, a rusty sword and a breastplate which he pulled out and handed me. I looked at it astonished. It was well made, and big - and I looked more closely at my companion, seeing him as he might have been as a young man, with more flesh on him. He was tall, and, I think, once heavily muscled. "Take it, boy, I have no need for it now."

"You were a soldier?"

"Was. Not any more. Don't like killing people. Don't like them trying to kill me. Wood doesn't fight back much."

I picked up the sword - it was a fine piece, and only needed cleaning and sharpening. "You know how to use this?"

"Aye. It's been some time. A very long time." I hefted it, feeling the weight, and handed it to him.

"Master Samson, I need to practice my swordsmanship - will you help me? If I help you with the work, is there time for this?"

"People will hear steel against steel for miles," he said sharply, and put the sword away, glaring at me.

"Staves then? I have not used a sword in ten years, and I am sorely unfit. Please help me." He stared at me for a long time, then he sighed.

"All right. I think you're mad, and I think you'll get me killed. But all right." He touched the breastplate. "You want this?"

I shook my head. "Let me show you something, Samson. Give me your knife."

He gave me the blade he used for cutting up meat and watched me. I opened my shirt, jabbed the thing into my gut, and he yelled.

"God preserve us, man! You've killed yourself!"

"Wait," I gasped, putting a hand out to still him. I held the shirt open, and as he watched, the wound healed.

"You're a devil!" he said, backing away in horror "Get out of my house!"

"Nay, Samson, calm yourself. I am not a devil, but I am like Methos, and the other Horsemen. We are Immortal, as Lady Cassandra was. I cannot die. I am a hundred years old."

"You really are mad." I had frightened him. "Only the Lord Christ can come back from the dead."

"We do not die, not truly. I am not a devil, Samson, and I am God-fearing as you are. I do not know why I am as I am, but there are many of us about."

"You will not harm me?"

"No, man, of course not. You are my friend. To kill is a sin." My talk of God and sinning seemed to reassure him a little, and he sat down, still looking at me suspiciously.

"But if you are Immortal, why do you need a sword?"

"I can be hurt, for a while, and appear to die for a time. And knives cut me like they cut you - I just heal faster. A sword in the gut will slow me down too much." I thought it better not to explain about beheading - the fewer people who knew about that secret, the better.

"This is why they tortured you so? Because you could not die?"

"Yes."

"Bastards," he spat.

I grinned at his venom. "So you will help me?"

"I said I would. God knows why, but I will."

I began to make arrangements. I cut down two saplings and made staves for us, and I cleaned his sword for him. I also kept my word, and laid more traps and foraged further afield for food, and for wood for his burning. While alone, I practiced with my sword, then with the two together, to build up my fighting muscles. I had been, before I was enslaved, very handy with the weapon. My plan was to wait until Samson heard the Horsemen had left on their raiding, and then to get back into the castle, although quite how, I had not thought. Until that time, I had to ready myself.

Samson and I began to practice in the afternoons - I worked hard for him in the mornings, and after we ate, he and I would fight with staves until one of us dropped from weariness. It was not usually him - my strange new friend had many secrets, and one of them was that he was a very able fighter with staves, and once or twice with swords when we risked it. Knowing I could not be permanently harmed, he spared me not at all. I think he took a delight in breaking my hands, and giving me bruises. "Enough!" I cried one afternoon, as he beat me to the ground again. "You're the devil, not I, Samson." I cradled one smashed hand against me. "You're too handy by half with that thing."

"Soft, that's what you are, Duncan MacLeod. All that fine living and fancy food. Haven't done an honest days work in a lifetime." I leapt up, and even with the damaged hand, I rejoined him in fierce battle. To my amazement, he beat me again.

"How do you do that?" I asked, annoyed at having been beaten by a youngster like him.

He tapped the side of his nose. "Watch and learn, boy." It amused me that he persisted in calling me that, when I was more than twice his age.

I watched and I learned, and he taught me well. In the evenings, he talked to me about how I would get into the castle, and what I would do when I was in. We decided - or rather, I decided, and persuaded him - that I would have to go in his cart.

"If they find you, boy, they'll kill us both," he warned, unnecessarily.

"Aye, Samson, but who would think anyone would break _into_ the castle?"

It would have made things much easier if Dawson, or Methos, were to know I was coming, but both would be furious at my plan. I could deal with their anger when I saw them, and it was too late to stop me, not before. Samson went again to the castle, and returned that evening with money and news.

"I saw your friend, Dawson. Gave him the note, and he gave me the coin. He says they're not looking for you - Kronos said you're not worth the hunt. Gave Dawson a hell of a time, though."

"Was he hurt?"

Samson shrugged. "He didn't say. He's alive, I can tell you that."

"And Methos?"

"Didn't see him. Things are afoot, though, boy - the Horsemen will be on the move soon. Bad news for the rest of us." He peered at me in the candlelight. "Duncan, think again about your plan. They will not leave the castle unguarded, and Methos will be watched, you know that. He would not want you harmed for him."

"I know, Samson. But it is something I have to do. I could not live with myself if I walked away now."

"But you would live."

I grinned at him. "I really must introduce you properly to Methos one day, you and he have a lot in common."

Taking his warning, I redoubled my efforts to prepare. Samson was pleased with me, I think, but he never relented. I asked him why he had chosen such a lowly profession after soldiering.

"Ever seen an old soldier, boy? Do you know what happens to those without family, crippled, without money or livelihood? You'd be better off as a slave, let me tell you. Here, I am free, and I owe no one a thing. Believe me, it's a lot more than most old soldiers have."

"Do you not miss the excitement?"

He snorted. "Now you do speak like a child. Excitement? Sheer bloody terror, boy. Blood and guts and screaming and being tired to death. Walking thirty miles a day with your armour and your pike and your sword, sleeping on the ground, and fighting for your life. Excitement, my arse."

He spoke the truth, but I remembered the rush of blood, the surge of raw energy in one's veins - the thrill of victory. And the rest, of course. I was past all that now. I, like him, only wanted peace.

The snows had all melted, and the trees beginning to come into leaf by the time Samson made another trip to the keep, and this time he said the Horsemen had been gone a week. I told him that I would go with him on his next visit.

Samson looked thoughtful. "Are you sure they will not return?"

"No, but I have to take the chance."

We went over our plans, and continued my training. He told me that he had seen a few guards, much fewer than normal. I thought that sounded right - Kronos had thirty men when he arrived, and ten could easily guard the castle and prevent escapes.

We planned that he would arrive in the late afternoon, pleading some trivial delay or other, and hope the gathering dusk would help to hide my actions. He had long had the practice of delivering his charcoal to the stables without assistance, and I could hide there until nightfall. He still urged me to reconsider, and as usual, I refused to change my mind, which did not seem to surprise him.

Before we left, and I was buried under his sacks, he fetched his sword and handed it to me. "Here, boy. You take this instead of the one you brought - it's better made and tempered. I think you will need the best weapon you can get."

He was right, it was a noble weapon and I was grateful. "I'll use it honourably," I promised.

He laughed. "God, boy, use it to pare your bloody nails with for all I care. It's a piece of metal, no more. There's no honour in it. You watch yourself."

The charcoal was not heavy, particularly, but the ride was not comfortable either. It took him some time to make his way at little more than walking pace to the castle, and there was an anxious moment when the guard decided to have his sport with the crazy old man. I feared for a moment the solider might empty the cart, or search it, to annoy Samson, but finally he was let pass. I heard him return the greetings of several people but he made a steady progress to the stables, and to the charcoal store.

"Stir yourself, boy," he hissed, lifting a couple of bags so I could scramble out and hide under the bundles of sacking and wood that were stored there for the smithy's use. I had to keep a little space clear, to breathe more easily, and to detect when the activity of the keep had died down, but he told me I was perfectly hid. "God speed," he muttered, and then I heard him talking to himself in his pretence of madness as he left. And so I was left alone to wait until darkness, and the ending of the meal. My hands were sweaty and my stomach knotting as I contemplated that very soon I would see Methos again. What would he say? I anticipated his welcome with pleasure and not a little dread.

After an interminable wait, I judged I could risk leaving my hiding place. To a casual glance, I would look nothing like the Duncan MacLeod that had been the overseer for ten years - Samson had given me some old rags of his to wear, and with my beard and dirtiness, I hope to pass for one of the slaves in the dark. I had my sword, clothes and boots tied in a bundle on my back, which I contrived to look like a burden I was delivering.

In the end, my subterfuge was unnecessary - the kitchen was in almost total darkness, and the kitchen slaves were fast asleep. I crept up the secret stair and into the attic, where I dressed properly and sheathed my sword. I went down to the door into Kronos' old rooms - I doubted anyone would be audacious enough to use them while he was gone, and I was correct. They were empty. I slipped out and down the stairs to where the guestrooms were - where Methos and the other Horsemen had taken up residence.

I peeked about the corner and saw the guard left on Methos' room, sleeping, as was normal, across the doorway. One of Kronos' men, but killing him was still something I regretted having to do. I smothered him in his sleep, and he made no sound as he died - if anyone passed, it would look as if he still slept. The door was unlocked, and I pushed it open. I was immediately seized and held up against the wall with a dagger at my throat.

"Methos?" I whispered.

"Duncan? It's Richard!" my young friend exclaimed happily.

"Richard!" I embraced him quickly. A voice called quietly in the dark.

"Richard, do me a favour and cut his throat, please?"

Richard let go of me. "Methos, it's Duncan!"

"Yes, I know," said the well-loved voice. "I've been expecting him for the last five minutes. He makes more noise than a pregnant elephant and he's obviously too stupid to live. So, please, kill him like a good lad, will you?"

"Methos!" I hissed.

I felt Richard tense beside me, before a low chuckle made us aware of the lack of seriousness.

"Come here, Duncan - wait, I suppose you killed the man outside. You two better drag his body in. Richard, would you light a lantern when you come back in?"

I could not understand why Methos was not up, but we did as he said, and pulled the body inside the door, shut it and locked it. Richard lit a lamp with a burning ember from the fire, and I carried it to the bed.

"Why do you lie there, Methos?" I asked.

"And what exactly am I supposed to do, Duncan MacLeod? I saved your sorry hide once, I cannot do it again." He was already dressed, but still lying flat. "Richard?" he asked, and the lad came over.

Puzzled, I watched as Richard helped him sit up, obviously with great difficulty. "Man, are you ill?" I asked.

"It is Kronos' doing," Richard said. I put a hand to Methos' shoulder, and found it was hard and unresisting.

"What...?"

"Kronos' insurance." Methos unlaced his shirt and I could see that his chest was encased in iron. I tried to pull the shirt over his head, but he did not lift his arms. He waited patiently as I felt about, and found the iron went part way down his arms, holding them near his body. "Do you see? He wanted to be certain I could not run away - so he made Caspian ensure I can hardly walk. It's bloody heavy."

"I have to help him everywhere," Richard confirmed. "The others don't know about it, except Dawson,"

"Enough of that," Methos said. "Duncan, I will not ask what you are doing here, because I am well aware of why you are. My answer is still the same as before - I will not leave. I cannot leave."

"We can get this off you, Methos...." I said, not understanding.

"Duncan - if the master leaves, Kronos will kill us all. So he has sworn, and the captain has promised to carry it out," Richard whispered urgently.

I looked at Methos, who nodded. "Even if I could get this off, and I could, in time, and with help, every life here will be forfeit if I leave. Do you want to pay that price, Duncan?"

"No," I said, horrified. "But I'm not leaving. Methos, we can fight the others when they get back - we have the advantage here."

He cocked his head at me in a familiar way. "Yes, I can see that. We have fifteen soldiers already in the keep who will kill anyone who even looks like thinking about rebelling. We have one mad Scot, a dead man's armour and a household of women, children and old men."

"I can fight," Richard said stoutly.

Methos sighed. "As I said - children. Duncan - what am I to do with you?" he said, resignedly.

"Come with me - we can all escape. We can overpower the guards...."

He cut me off, slicing his hand through the air impatiently. "No! It would be more merciful to let Kronos kill them. These people have lived here for many years, some all their lives. Some were even born here - would you turn them out without food or shelter, to fend for themselves? Is that the honourable way of the MacLeods?" He saw my face, which gave him my answer. "Two months, Duncan, and you haven't thought about it. You wanted something, you have gone after it in a singularly stupid fashion, and now you don't know what to do. I told you to trust me, and you did not."

"What shall I do?"

"If you hadn't killed that guard, I would say, go and never come back. But we have a problem, and I suppose I will have to solve it for you. Richard, we are about to have a fire - a serious one. Duncan, go back to the attic, and hide. Do not leave for any reason, whatever you hear, unless you have flames licking at your feet. Richard, pull the body by the fireplace, and pour some lamp oil about. I think Lord Methos will have to have a night terror and knock the lamp over, and only the bravery of his trusted slave and his guard will save his life. Unfortunately, the guard will die. Understand? Duncan," he looked at me seriously, " I will take Kronos' room then. Richard will come for you."

"Yes, Methos." I was chastened by my failure to think ahead - all that he said was true.

"Go," he ordered curtly.

I slipped out, and hid in the attic. Not long after, I could hear shouts for help, and smelled smoke. It seemed to last a long time, and I worried that either the fire would get out of hand, or that Methos and Richard may have got caught. But at last, all was silent. I waited in the dark for a long time before I heard Richard's voice, telling me to come down. Methos was waiting for me, sitting in a chair, sooty and looking very unhappy. I sat on the floor in front of him.

"Well, I think we carried it off," he said. "The captain of the guard was most upset about losing one of his men, but I commended the man's selflessness, and they have taken what is left away for burial. I've convinced the captain that I don't need a guard for the rest of the night, and that Richard will stay at the door. Richard, could you find some hot water for us - and you'd better wash too, you look like Samson - or Duncan for that matter."

Richard left, and I stood. "Show me this contraption," I ordered. I saw Methos was wearing a specially made shirt which laced in back as well as in front, and I removed it. The iron was half an inch thick, and covered him from the base of his head to his groin. It was made in parts, joined at the sides with heavy leather straps and buckles. It was padlocked solidly.

Methos looked down at it - "You have to admire the man's cunning," he said resignedly. "This way he maintains the authority of the horsemen over the slaves, and his authority over me. He never accused me outright of helping you get away - but I think this proves he thought it."

I could not bear the thought of him in this device a second longer than necessary and lifted my sword to cut the heavy straps. "No, wait, Duncan!" he cried, but I ignored him, cleaving the bindings easily. Then I lifted it away from him, and he slipped out of it with a groan of relief. I put the thing on the floor, turned around, and was greeted with a fist to the jaw, knocking me back on my arse.

"What the hell...? Why did you do that?" I asked, offended. The man had a hard punch. I stood up and backed away to watch him from a safe distance.

"I should take your head, you damn fool," he said angrily, "only I am so happy to see you, I don't think I could bear to." Then he grabbed me and kissed me hard. He sighed. "It feels so good to be out of that - I've had it on for over a month. But you do realise you have just burned my bridges for me."

"Aye, Methos," I said grinning.

He shook his head in disgust. "You're impossible, Duncan. And you look like a bear with all that beard." He sat down and stared at me. "You really do not have any idea what you are doing, do you?"

"No, but you have brains enough for two." I knelt beside him. "Methos, Kronos will let these people live a year at most, you know that. And then what will your sacrifice be worth?"

"A year of a mortal's life? Better that than to die now."

"I do not understand why Kronos would think you would care."

He let out a bitter laugh. "I told you he was not a stupid man. The truth is, once, I would not have cared, although slaughter for nothing but sport has always seemed pointless to me. I have changed, I know I have. This is his way of turning my better nature against me - if I go, I prove that I am as I always was, and that he is right about me. If I stay, I am still under his power, and he has what he wants anyway. I will be unhappy either way - but this way, I save a few lives, which settle the debt I owe a little, I suppose." He looked weary - his brother was still tormenting him even though the man himself was a hundred or more miles away. "But enough - you have crossed the Rubicon, now what will you do?"

"I want to free the castle from the Horsemen," I said, as I had to Samson.

He laughed again. "Such a simple plan, from a simple mind. And how, pray, shall we do this?" he asked with a feigned look of innocent interest.

"We can kill them when they return."

"With what, man? Spoons? They took nearly all the weapons - all we have are the ones his men are carrying, and a few rusty things unfit for children to play with. He even took Cassandra's guards with him - they were given the choice of that or death. You can imagine what they chose."

"Methos, there are still men here. And we can make more weapons - I know the art of bow making, there are yew trees about."

For the first time, he looked interested. "That might work. We have time. " He rubbed his face, and looked at his hand. "Where's that water? I look like a smith."

"Thou art fair as always, _mo cridhe_."

He smiled and leaned in to kiss me. "Oh Duncan, I should be angry and I am, but it is so good to see you. I could not sleep for thinking of you."

"And I also, Methos." I took his hand.

"Mind, I could not sleep for that thing either," he said with a trace of mischief, and I slapped him gently on the head before becoming serious.

"There must be a way for you to be free - for all to be free. "

He sighed heavily, as Richard came in at last. "I suppose we have little choice now. I had convinced myself we should endure, but you are right - it cannot go on forever. Bring a cloth, Richard, please." The lad handed it to Methos, and then Richard took another and began to wipe my face and hands.

"Nay, boy, I can do it myself." I took the cloth from him. He looked surprised and offended.

"I only wanted to help, Duncan."

"I am sorry, Richard. It is... I spent too long attending others. I do not like to see another doing it." Even by the lamplight, I could see his embarrassment.

"Richard is my trusted aide, Duncan," Methos explained quietly, "and my body slave in name only. No one gives him orders in this room."

I looked at Methos, then at Richard. "Thank you, Methos. You kept your word."

"And you did not." He finished cleaning himself and threw the cloth away in anger, glaring at me. "Damn you, Duncan, I thought you were safe."

"I was - I am. And I swear so you all shall be. Methos, you are not my master any more, nor am I yours. I am here by my own free will, and you should stay or go by yours."

"What about Kronos' men?" Richard asked.

"For now," Methos answered, "we should do nothing until we have a plan. Duncan, you will stay in the attic. We cannot move too precipitously lest we arouse the suspicions of the tenants and our neighbours, and provoke an attack because we are known to be weak. It is late, and I for one, am tired, and looking forward to a decent rest without that thing on my back. Richard, could you sleep across the door just for tonight? Admit no one until I say."

"Yes, Methos," he said, finishing cleaning his face and arms. "What about Dawson?"

"I will speak to him in the morning, lad. Off you go."

Methos locked the door behind him. "You have missed a bit, " he said, taking the cloth from me, and wiping my cheek carefully.

I sniffed him. "You need a bath - you stink of iron."

"Well, it is late, and if I offend thee, that is too bad. You can always leave."

I took him in my arms. "You really want me to leave?"

"Yes," he said, looking away from me. I took his chin and made him look at me. "Yes, Duncan, I truly want you to leave. But I want you to stay as well."

"Then my heart and yours are in agreement, and I will ignore thy busy brain, old man. Will you take me to bed?"

"Aye, Highlander." I undressed him and he lifted his arms and stretched. "That feels good."

"He left you vulnerable - you could not lift a sword like that."

As I spoke, I stripped, then held a hand out to him to lead him back into bed. "He left me fifteen guards, which is fair, I suppose."

"Gaolers."

"No, guards. Only the captain knows that if I leave, the people are to be put to the sword." He got under the blankets, and I held him close. "We will have to kill them, in the end."

"Is there another way?" Mass slaughter was repugnant to me.

"You want everything, Duncan. You want freedom, and you want a clear conscience. Listen to the words of one who knows - freedom has a price, and one man's liberty often means another's slavery. Or death. Now sleep, man. Tomorrow we have much to discuss."

That night was the first in many weeks when I did not dream, and to wake with Methos in my arms was so sweet, I almost forgot our situation for the joy of seeing him and touching him, running my fingers through his soft hair, and tracing his pale shoulder where it escaped the blanket. He, too, took time to kiss me long and tenderly, before rolling off me.

"We had better tell Dawson you are back, I suppose." He got out of bed and dressed, then he picked up the iron breastplate, and pushed it under the bed. "Come on, man, we don't have all day."

As I dressed, he opened the door and spoke to Richard, who went to fetch Dawson and food. I noticed the polite way Methos addressed Richard, as he had done the night before.

"You're very gentle with him," I said.

"As I was not with you, you mean." I did not answer. "Richard has been a slave all his life, and needs reminding that withal he is a man. You could never forget you are a Highlander first, and so I had to remind you of your status. Frankly, I prefer equals as friends, not servants. He's a good lad."

"You have not told him?"

"That he is going to be Immortal? No. If you did not, I assumed you had your reasons. Let him find out in his own time - he has enough to contend with."

He asked me about Samson, and when I told him the man had been a soldier, he nodded. "I thought so. Something about his manner suggested it."

"He could be an asset to us if we take on the horsemen."

"Another person at risk of their lives in this, I think I could not bear, Highlander."

Richard entered, followed by Dawson, whose eyes grew saucer- like when he saw me. "Duncan! What in heaven's name...?"

Methos waved his hand at Dawson. "Go ahead and chastise him, Joseph, I said my piece last night."

"Was the fire anything to do with him coming back?" Dawson asked suspiciously. My arrival was not entirely welcome, I saw.

"A diversion. MacLeod killed the guard."

Dawson set his lips in a line, indicating his anger. "What were you thinking, Duncan? We have gone for months avoiding trouble with those men, and in one night, you set them against us? Have you returned only to cause strife?"

"Nay, Joseph. I came back for Methos, but I did not know... I am sorry."

Methos snorted and Dawson nodded. "Too late for that, Duncan," Methos said. "Joseph, now the boy is here, and since he liberated me from Kronos' bonds, we have a decision to make. We can kill or subdue the guards, and allow people to leave, we can try and defend the castle against Kronos' return and perhaps kill him, or I can cast this troublesome Scot out, and plead an accident regarding my iron nightshirt. What say you?"

We were eating as we spoke, and although Methos seemed to give more attention to the food on his plate, than to Joseph, I knew he was keenly interested in the man's opinion.

Dawson considered. "I cannot speak for all, Methos. Myself, I say I am too old to live as a gypsy, and that Kronos and the others are an abomination that the world would be well rid of. But Richard here...."

"I want to stay and fight, " Richard said emphatically.

"Young Richard," Dawson continued as if he had not been interrupted, "is young enough that he might get work in the town, or on a farm. Have a family, raise children. There are others like him, who might be glad to leave."

"So we will have to ask," Methos said. "There is the problem of what to do about Kronos' men. We dare not move while they are free, but the simple fact remains that they are our defence. Without them, we are vulnerable. Kronos is not the only raider around."

"Methos, you and I and Richard, Dawson, Peter, one or two others - we can defend this place if we make preparations and weapons. We do not need Kronos' people," I said firmly.

Methos was thoughtful. "It is possible, I suppose. Our main defence is the castle itself. But what about Kronos?"

"We could lure him in, or wait until he comes back, and ambush him," Richard said. It sounded reasonable, if not very honourable."

"We have months before they come back," I added.

"Possibly - it depends how their raids go. Three months at least. Dawson, Cassandra's herb closet - it is still intact?"

The change of subject puzzled Joseph just as it had me, I saw, but he answered it seriously. "Yes, Methos. Your brothers had no interest in it, and no one else uses it. When we need physicking, there are herbs in the garden. Besides, people are afraid of her things - they think she might have cast a spell on them to protect them."

"Knowing Cassandra, she probably did," Methos said sardonically. "Very well, you must show me where it is."

"What are you thinking, Methos?" I asked.

"There are herbs that mixed with wine, will cause sleep. If we give it to the guards, we can take them."

"Imprison them?" I asked.

"Imprison or kill, it makes no difference," he said impatiently. "Are we finished, men? Duncan, you'd best stay upstairs. Dawson, take me to Cassandra's store." And with that, he left.

Richard cleared up the plates. "How are you, lad?" I asked, giving him a hand.

"I am well, Duncan. Methos has been very kind to me. But if Kronos comes back...." His eyes held an appeal.

"Kronos will never lay a hand on you again, Richard. You have my word."

He smiled. "All right. I'd best take this away. I will bring you a lamp for the attic."

"Thank you." He left, and I went up stairs. The attic was bare and dark, and were it winter still, it would be unbearable. I thought of Dawson's words, and Methos'. If the people in the household wanted to leave, I was duty bound to protect them, but at the same time, what protection could I offer them? And where would they go? The more I thought, the more it seemed the only way was to try and maintain the castle as their home, and I would leave at the end of the last mortal's life - not so very long to an Immortal, certainly not to one like Methos.

But I could not ask him to stay - he was brought here by force, and made to stay by force. He had no duty here, and I could not ask him to stay for me. Once Kronos was defeated - and I was sure we could take him if we combined out forces - then Methos would be free. The thought cheered me - it had played on my conscience that the man had stayed in the hands of a madman to save me, and to save the others.

It was some time before anyone came back, and when they did, it was Methos and Richard both. Richard had a lamp as he promised, Methos had a small sack. He sat cross-legged on the floor. "Lady Cassandra had a deft hand with poisons, I see. She has enough there to kill a large army out right, and those she did not kill, she could bend to her will easily enough."

"So we are resolved to drug them? How?" I asked.

"In their drink, that is easiest. Richard, how trustworthy is the cook?"

"She has no love for the Horsemen. But she has no love for you either."

Methos laughed. "Ah, that is a relief. I thought I was losing my touch. Duncan, can we ask her to help?"

"Dawson can, I think. She has a soft spot for him. And no one likes Kronos' men. Methos, you will put them to sleep only, yes?"

"If you so wish, Highlander. I will infuse hemlock into their wine and beer - in small doses, it causes drowsiness. In large, it will kill. So we are agreed - we dispose of these men, and make our defence?"

"Aye, Methos," Richard said, and I nodded.

"Think hard, gentlemen. We cannot turn back once this bridge is crossed." Methos' voice was calm, as if it mattered not to him.

"You want to live in that man's thrall, Methos?" I asked sharply.

"No, but I am patient. I can always hope that he will be killed."

"I say he dies sooner rather than later," Richard cried angrily. "He has killed and killed again, and where he does not kill, he degrades and he maims. He does not deserve to live."

"And yet I was once as he is," Methos murmured.

"I am sorry, my lord," Richard said, embarrassed. "But any fool can see you are not like him any more."

"Perhaps. I hope not. All right, I will ask Dawson to draw the cook into our plan. Duncan, stay here today. We will move tonight. Richard, say nothing to anyone else. If the plan fails, I do not want others to suffer a punishment, nor do I want loose lips to harm our doings."

"Yes, Methos."

Richard and Methos both rose. "Duncan, I will come for you when we are done. Richard will bring you some food. Stay quiet, and out of sight."

The day seemed endless. Richard brought bread and cheese, but then I was left alone. I wished that I knew if Dawson had persuaded the cook, and how long we had to wait for the hemlock to take effect. I paced impatiently, wishing I dared to go down to Methos' room and look out the window. I dozed a little eventually, but woke to the sounds of shouting, and then Richard burst up the stairs.

"Duncan! It is done. Come down, you are needed."

As I followed behind Richard, he informed me breathlessly that Methos had poisoned the guards in the hall, and those on guard duty were either fed drugged food, or had been lured one by one to the kitchen, where Methos had engaged them in battle and slain them. I stopped short. "They are all dead?" I said, aghast.

"Yes," Richard said impatiently, urging me on. "Everyone's been called to the hall."

Behind the guard's table, there was carnage - ten men lay dead, their bodies twisted by their death agonies, their vomit staining their clothes and the floor. Methos was standing by the high table, and beckoned to Richard and me.

"You killed them," I said fiercely but in a low voice.

"I do not have time to explain now, Highlander. Sit. Dawson, come up here will you?"

By now, the entire household was assembled, looking puzzled and fearful, the bodies to the side the object of much speculation. Methos called for quiet, and was instantly obeyed.

"Good people, be still. Tonight your captors are dead, and you are none of you slaves any longer."

That provoked a tremendous noise of disbelieving, shocked voices, and Methos waited for a minute or so before again calling for quiet. "I know for many of you, this is a change you never hoped for. Perhaps never dreamed of, and I want you to be assured that you are not without friends or protectors. Those of you who want to leave this place will do so freely, with my blessing, and with food and money to set you on your way."

Another hubbub, but Methos' rounded tones cut through the sound. "Those of you who wish to take your chances and stay must know this. I, your former overseer, Duncan MacLeod, who as you see, has returned to help us liberate the castle from the horsemen, and Master Dawson, will do all we can to protect you, and to deliver you from the yoke of Kronos. But we cannot promise it. If you stay, you will have shelter and food for as long as you need, but you must commit to helping defend the castle and to defeat the Horsemen when they return. For return they will, and in strength. Duncan has said we have a chance to defeat them, and I trust his judgement."

"How can we trust you?" an angry voice sneered from the back. "You're one of them."

"That is true, sirrah. But as I am one, and you are many, perhaps I should ask - can I trust you?"

"No!" a woman's voice screamed out, and as she pushed her way to the front of the assembly, I saw it was Mary, the girl Methos had taken as a 'gift' from Silas. "Do not trust him, he's a murderer and a rapist just like the others." She spat, and there were several assenting voices. "You all saw what he did to Duncan while he was a slave - you all know what he had done to the poor lady Cassandra."

I almost laughed out loud at that - poor, indeed. I decided enough was enough.

"You have no idea what you are talking about, Mary. Methos spared me much more pain than he caused, and you are a fool to resent what he did to you. You can't keep a still tongue in your head - if he had not touched you, the word would have been all over the castle before the night was out. Then Kronos would have killed you and then his brother for his deception. Tell me, was Silas so gentle to you, maid? Did you prefer Lord Kronos - or Caspian? Is there any of you who has not witnessed the other's barbarity, and think you Methos has been the same? And 'poor' lady Cassandra?" It was my turn to spit. "Know you what she did to this man every single day he was a captive? You are a fool, Mary, and if you want to leave, I for one say good riddance to bad rubbish."

They were harsh words, harshly said, but now was a dangerous time. Methos was in a precarious position - his only authority was what he, and I and Dawson, could claim for him.

Methos was angry - or made it seem. "Nay, Duncan. You are unkind and unjust to the woman. Yes, Mary, I have grievously offended you, and I offer my apologies and my service to you, and to all of you. My brothers have done much harm, much that I would give anything to have undone, and all I can do is offer you is my body and my strength to deliver you from them. If you do not trust me, then leave. But there cannot be anarchy, or dissension, for the sake of the majority. If you stay, then you will be free but you will be under my discipline. You will continue your tasks, and those who will not contribute to the commonweal will be cast out. Now, I ask you all to sleep on it, and those who wish to leave, may speak to Master Dawson in the morning. He will give each his fair share and no more. I will not tolerate looting - anyone caught thieving will be killed out of hand. But for those who respect the assembly, life will be one of tolerance and respect, from me and for me, I hope. Good night to you all."

It was an impressive performance - he had drawn himself up to his full height, and his voice held the tones of a prince. I found myself swayed by his sincerity, even though I burned with anger at his earlier deception. Knowing that he had done that, I felt a little chilled at the idea of my former friends and colleagues placing their trust in him. He had used my name to bolster himself - I had to hope that he had not done so to be self-serving.

The hall emptied to the sound of a great many confused and excited voices, until there were just Methos, Dawson, Richard and I remaining. Now I looked closely at Methos, I saw he was exhausted, and remembered he had fought several sword battles tonight - there was blood spattered on his shirt, and on his cheek. He looked at me.

"Think you that it went well, Duncan?"

"Well enough. If they trust you, I hope you will not lie to them as you have to me this day."

He drew himself up and narrowed his eyes. "That is all you can see? The injury to your pride?" he said coldly. "You are as much a fool as Mary, Duncan."

And with that, he turned away, dismissing me, as he spoke to Dawson. I did not hear their speech, and he walked away without looking at me.

Dawson clapped his hands slowly. "Oh, nicely done, Master Duncan. Well done. The man lays his life on the line for you, and you abuse him."

"He said he would not kill those men, Joseph. If we kill indiscriminately, we are no better than they are - or than animals."

Richard snorted at my words and stalked off after Methos. "Even the children can see you are a fool, MacLeod," Dawson said.

"You don't understand, Joseph."

"You have the right of it, man, for I do not. What would we do with over a dozen trained killers? Feed them honey and take the thorns from their paws?"

"That is not my dispute, Dawson. He swore he would not lie to me, ever, and he did. How can we trust him - how can I?"

"Because he stayed," Joseph said softly. "Go to bed, Duncan - there is a room ready for you, next to Silas' old one. And learn some wisdom in your slumbers."

He left, and I was alone with the corpses. I walked over to them - it was a truly gruesome sight. I guessed it was either aconite or fly agaric, but poison was a filthy, cowardly way to die. I felt angry not only at the deception, but that the men had not been offered a clean death by the sword. I knew then I could not sleep until I spoke to Methos about this, and so I did not obey Dawson's command, but instead found myself in front of Methos' door, knocking quietly. He answered it with a sword in his hand, even though he must have known who it was.

"What do you want, Duncan? It is late, I am tired." He did not beckon me in, but at least he did not point the sword at me.

"I thought... perhaps we could spend the night together. Talk?"

"About those men? I am sorry, Highlander, I have no appetite for defending myself, or to be judged. And I do not bed children. Good night, sirrah." With that, he shut the door, and I heard it lock.

Well done, Master Duncan, as Dawson had said. He was angry, and I was angry. I shrugged, trying to put my feelings aside. Perhaps things would be clearer in the morning, and for now, there were greater matters to consider. I recalled that without Kronos' men, the castle was undefended, so I went to the courtyard to see if there was anyone keeping watch. I found Richard and Dawson in the watchtower, with arrangements in hand to relieve them in four hours. It seemed I was not needed, so finally, I took myself to bed. My dreams were not peaceful.

Next morning, the kitchen was emptier than I remembered from before, and those women preparing food were unsure of what they should be doing. My presence reassured them and I told them to do as they would normally do. This would be a problem in many ways, I could foresee - it was all very well telling people they were free, but to those used to servitude, freedom was not an unalloyed blessing. Tasks needed to be done, even if by choice now, not by force, and I could see that most would be happy to be directed as before, even if by kindlier hands than hitherto. I took it on myself to remain in the kitchen, since I knew most people would come in there eventually, and would want the same assurances that I had already given. Several wanted my advice whether to stay or to go - they were those who had never lived outside the castle walls, and to them, I said that staying might be the best. I fairly described the dangers they faced if they stayed - but equally, I warned that life outside was not easy either.

Dawson came in briefly, snatched some bread but did not stay to talk - he had other things to attend to. I looked at my former fellow slaves with a fresh eye, assessing who was likely to take responsibility and help, those who could be willingly led, and those who might be trouble. The last were few indeed - Lady Cassandra had tolerated no surliness or disobedience, Kronos even less - but there were those who would only work if constantly watched, a luxury we could no longer afford. There were many who questioned Methos' right to continue to rule, and to them I said that he did not intend to do so, but to only be _primus inter pares_. There would perforce have to be those who decided for the group, but I did not think that Methos wanted to be another Cassandra. Privately, I wondered if he planned to stay long at all.

Methos himself came in to look for his breakfast, and caused something of a stir, since he had never been seen in the kitchen before. He served himself and spoke politely to all - to me he was equally polite, and equally distant. To my surprise, he took a seat and ate his food there and then, and his unassuming manner seemed to ease people's nervousness about him. I took his cue and ignored him, but I knew he was listening to what I said to the people who engaged me in conversation. I knew also he was watching me, but if I tried to engage his eyes, he pointedly looked away. I was thus slightly shocked when he stood and approached me.

"Duncan," he said in a conversational manner, "Joseph is distributing food and money this morning to those who wish to leave, and I know he would appreciate your presence. And then you and he, Richard, Maya and Peter would be welcome in my room so that we can discuss the security arrangements, and the training of the others."

His words were fair, but his eyes were cold, and the moment I nodded, he turned away and walked out. So many faces that man had - and I did not know which, if any, was the real one.

Dawson did welcome my presence, but the feared anarchy did not arise. A mere twenty souls took up the opportunity to go, from a household of nearly one hundred - with the loss of Cassandra's guard, that left us with sixty-three. Twenty-three men, thirty-five women, and five children under the age of ten, including a baby born just the month before. Those who left were hardly jubilant at their departure - the overarching emotion was fear, and the goods, coin and food were snatched up and hidden away as if they thought that it was all a cruel joke, that at the last moment, they would be barred from going and punished for trying. Dawson spoke warm farewells, and I tried to offer support and advice where needed.

One woman turned back before she reached the table where we were handing out the divided supplies - tools of the trade, when they could be spared, money to their value when they could not.

"Alison? Are you well?" I called, seeing her walk away. She returned slowly.

"I cannot go, Duncan. I am afraid, and I know nothing else. But I do not like it here either." She was no longer a young women, but still of childbearing age - strong, intelligent, and a good wife for someone, I thought.

"Then stay, lass. You can go later - this is not a prison. And maybe things will improve."

"I fear the Horsemen," she said softly, as if she thought Kronos would hear. "And that one, Methos - can we trust him?"

"Yes, we can. You can trust me also."

"There are others like me, Duncan. Will you give your word to them also?" Large blue eyes stared into mine, longing from relief from fear.

"Aye, I will. I will defend all there while there a drop of blood in my veins and breath left in my body. Dawson too. Methos means to protect you, I know that." I hoped he would not make a liar of me.

"But... when... Duncan, we saw him beat you... and worse... we heard..." She did not finish, but I know what she had heard - and seen.

"Believe me, Alison, it is not what you think. Forget that now. You know me, you know who I am. I give you my word on my honour and my life."

She patted the hand I held hers in, and I let it go. "Very well, Duncan MacLeod. It is a heavy burden on you, but I will stay for now."

There were a couple who did not hide their delight in leaving, and one, at least, thought we deserved our fate.

"I wish you joy of your whore, Duncan," Mary said, taking up the clothes and money with disdain clear in every feature. "Or is he Kronos' bumboy now?"

"Take care not to cut yourself on your tongue, woman."

"I have sharper tools than that, man." Something in her face made me look down at her hand - it was bloodstained. She gave me a twisted smile. "I've done you a favour, MacLeod, though you do not know it yet."

I leaned across the table and grabbed her shoulders. "What have you done?" I demanded in a low voice, but fiercely.

She shook herself free and smirked. "Something you do not have the balls for, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod."

She picked up the rest of her things and stalked out, pausing only to spit one last time before she walked out the door.

"She's up to something," I said to Dawson. "Have you seen Methos?"

"Not since before breakfast." He looked at me seriously. "Duncan, he's Immortal, she cannot harm him permanently."

"No, but that didn't stop Kronos, did it? I'm going to find him." We were almost done in any event.

I went to the kitchen, and the hall, but could not detect Methos' Presence. I began to worry when I could not sense him in the apartments above, but I entered his chamber anyway, to find him sprawled in a pool of blood, eyes half open in death, his expression frozen in shock. I rolled him over and found the reason for his lack of revival - there was a long knife shoved in his chest. I pulled it out, then dragged him to the wall, out of the gore. He was fairly covered with it, and there was another slash in the back of his shirt. I fetched the basin and ewer, and a cloth, and began to clean his hands and arms, more for something to do until he revived. It was not long in coming - he heaved in great gasps, struggling to get air into empty lungs, and against the pain of healing. He looked confused, not knowing why I was there, and he ran his hands down his body, expecting something he did not find.

"It was Mary?" I asked.

He nodded, and with my help, climbed to his feet. "Took me by surprise. Got me in the back, and then stabbed me while I was down. I'm lucky she did not have a sword."

"You paid a heavy price for underestimating her."

He grinned wryly. "I am just glad she did not exact the traditional penalty for rapists." He sniffed at his shirt and began to strip in disgust at his state. I searched for clothes in his closet.

"You are not angry with her?" His attitude was of faint amusement, nothing else.

"Not at all - it's what I'd do, in her place. I am surprised she found the courage - I presume she's gone?" I nodded. "Pity, we could do with someone with that sort of fire. I am impressed that she found the strength to fight back at last."

He took the cloth I was using from me, and as our fingers touched, I saw his expression harden as he recalled that we were not easy with each other.

"Methos, please don't shut me out again," I said quickly. "I am sorry to have offended thee. I need you to forgive me." I took his hand, and although he permitted it, it was clear he wished I would let him go.

"There is nothing to forgive, Highlander." His cold voice made me loose his fingers. "You said I lied to you, you cannot trust me. I understand."

"You don't understand!" I said urgently. "Just tell me why you lied to me."

"Wrong question, Duncan," he said brusquely. "Perhaps when you can think of the right one, we can talk. Dawson and the others will be here soon - we need to cover this mess."

I fetched some rags quickly, and together we mopped up as much of the blood as we could, then I spread rushes over the stain. While I did, he finished changing his clothes, and by the time our colleagues arrived, all looked normal. Methos' first question was how many had left, and when Dawson recounted the number, he nodded approvingly.

"That is as I expected. That leaves us in a much less vulnerable position, fewer mouths to feed, fewer people to defend."

"Fewer men to do the defending, " Dawson pointed out.

"If you only count the men, true enough. That is why you are here, Maya. Do you think there are other women like you in the household who can learn to fire a bow, and wield a knife?"

"Yes, my Lord Methos...."

He cut her off. "No, Maya. Methos. There are no lords and ladies here, we are equals. No better, no worse than anyone else. If we are to command the respect of those who have stayed, none of us must think ourselves above the most lowly task."

"Yes... Methos." She was a brave woman, Maya, and she had obviously become close to her former master. I felt a twinge of jealousy and suppressed it - it was good that others could see the worth of my lover. Former lover. Friend. I did not know what he was any more. She continued. "Even Mistress Cook would like a swipe at Kronos," and we all smiled at the idea of our ferocious head of the kitchen with a cleaver in her hand.

"Very well," Methos said. "Duncan, we will need Samson's help in this to choose, cut and season the wood for bows. Dawson, we will need men and women to keep watch at all times, and once the bows and arrows are made, they will need to be trained. Train Richard, Maya and Peter first, then you three will teach the others."

He sat back. "Now, I have two other suggestions, and then I am done. One is that we partition our stores, and while we have these months of peace, that we secure at least half in the woods. Then, when it comes closer to Kronos' return, we send the most vulnerable of our people to the woods to hide there out of harm's way until his return. If things go badly, at least we do not lose everyone."

I found myself, like the others, nodding solemnly in agreement. It was a wise precaution given the uncertain outcome of the confrontation with the Horsemen. "If you are agreed then, that is also something to raise with Samson. My other suggestion is this - that we should choose Duncan as the castle holder, and that it is he who speaks to the others in assembly, and to our tenants.

This surprised me completely. "But why, Methos? Everyone expects you to be our leader."

"And a more unfit person, I cannot imagine. Duncan, you were the overseer here and you are respected. I came here as a slave, and then stayed as a captor. To the household, I represent nothing but imprisonment and degradation. You by virtue of your position...."

"Which one is that, Methos," I demanded roughly, angered by his presumption. "The overseer or your catamite?" Methos' eyes narrowed, and I saw him clench his hands on the edge of the table. It was only by exertion of his strong will that he did not rise and walk away, I could tell.

"Gentlemen," Dawson said equably, "there is no need for name calling. Methos, not everyone here fears you. Duncan, there is much sympathy for what happened to you, and much respect for your fairness. Either of you would be acceptable."

"Then I say, let it be Duncan MacLeod, for I have no wish to lead," Methos said emphatically.

"You plan to go?" I said, suddenly reminded that Methos had no obligation, and no reason to love a place where he had been so long a tortured prisoner.

"I will stay as long as I am needed. But only if you accept my proposal."

We stared at each other, the other people in the room forgotten. This was a crucial moment, I knew.

"If the others agree, then I will be your figurehead," I said slowly, "but only while you stay, Methos."

He shook his head, and rose. "No, that is unacceptable. Your commitment is to them, not to me." But it would be, if you allowed it, I thought silently, pleading with my eyes for him to stay for my sake. "What is your answer, Duncan?"

"I have no choice. We need you, I need you. I accept."

"Good. So I make no more decisions for you all - I will merely suggest, and do as I am bid."

He waved his hand at me, asking me to take over, then sat back with his arms crossed over his chest.

I looked at Dawson. " You agree? You all agree?" They all nodded. "Very well. What Methos has... suggested... I think we should get on with, without delay. I will speak to Samson this afternoon. There is one more thing - we have children here, and others who have no ability to survive beyond these walls. That must change - I want everyone to learn how to fight, how to fend for themselves, and to plan to flee this place if they have to. We cannot carry anyone, beyond the babe in arms. Methos, you and I probably know the most about woodcraft of anyone here, and Samson can help, if he is willing. Will you teach the children, and the others?"

He nodded, and I saw him relax, as if he had indeed shed an unwanted burden. "One other thing - you mentioned that you knew metal working - think you we could forge swords and knifes here?"

He seemed surprised, but my question was one he approved of. "Yes, I think so - there is much iron about," and his lips quirked - I knew of what he was thinking. "It may not be of Toledo standards, but we can make shift, I think. We should start by finding all the possible weapons in the place, and deciding what we need. Pike heads might be a good start."

"Then you choose who you need to help, and get what you need to begin." I regarded them all thoughtfully. "We will be thinly stretched, and I suggest we keep the gate shut at all times. Anyone wanting to leave may do so freely, but we must be on our guard against looting. Our stores are in good health, but will not survive greed. Anyone caught thieving will have to be punished severely, as Methos said."

"And who will dispense the punishment? Methos?" Maya asked.

Methos shook his head forcefully. "No. It must be Duncan, else people will assume I am usurping his authority."

"As you wish, Methos. I hope it won't be necessary." Again his lips twitched - I could hear him thinking, 'Fool', but he did not say it. "We should begin then. Dawson, choose twelve people to keep watch, and make the evening shifts short - I don't want people falling asleep, we cannot afford that. Maya, I leave you to explain to the women what they will be asked to do. All unnecessary duties should be abandoned. Oh - and ask those that can to move into the apartments here. No one should be sleeping on stones when there are beds empty here. Richard, you assist Methos. Peter, you work with Dawson. Joseph, I will take a two-hour watch at midnight, and at other times, if you wish. All of you, the same - we all must pull our proper weight."

They all rose. "Methos," I said quietly, coming to his side and touching his arm. He turned and looked at me coolly. "Would you come with me to see Samson? He has a great admiration for you, and I am sure you can convince him where I cannot."

He lifted an eyebrow, but I told the simple truth. "Very well, Highlander. As you wish."

We collected food and beer before heading to the stables and seeing what horseflesh Kronos had left us. Naturally, they had taken the best for themselves, but fortunately, they had left a mare in foal, a fine animal, and a quiet but sturdy gelding, as well a couple of cart horses. Methos, being slighter, took the mare, and I noted that he was entirely at ease in the saddle. We rode only at walking pace, eating as we went. My companion's thin face broke into a smile as we left the castle grounds.

"You have not been outside all this time?" I asked.

"No, Duncan. I was as much, if not more, a prisoner than you were."

At least he was disposed to be polite, even friendly, and I thought I could begin anew.

"I did ask the wrong question, Methos. I should have asked - 'Why did you change your mind?'"

He looked at me through his fringe of lashes, as he often did when I surprised or irritated him. Which was it this time? "I think there might hope for you after all, Highlander. The simple fact was that Dawson convinced me that I should put enough poison in the food and drink to kill them outright. Cassandra's dungeon will not hold so many, nor could I guarantee that hemlock alone would subdue the men sufficiently. It was too great a risk, so we changed the plan. When I spoke to you, I did not intend to kill, but nor do I regret doing so. They had to die."

"Yes, I know. I was being foolish. And narrow-minded and prideful."

Methos brought his mare to a halt and stared at me. "Duncan, are you well? Are you admitting you were wrong?"

"Yes, Methos. I am. And I am sorry for doubting you. I only wish you would tell me and not avoid me if I offend you."

"That is not the reason I avoid - avoided - you, Duncan."

He snicked at his mare to make her walk on. I was determined to let him tell me his thoughts at his own pace, just as he was letting the mare walk at hers. Finally he spoke again. "Tell me why you cut your hair?"

As often when I spoke to this man, I felt my mind was not quick enough to keep up with him. "Because... Kronos, and the others used it against me. It was a reminder. It reminded me of being a slave, and in agony."

"Exactly," he said, and continued to urge his gravid horse on.

I thought more - being on horseback is a good place to think, I find.

"Are you saying I remind you of something unpleasant?" I asked.

"Not you, Duncan. Just... when you look at me, and you judge me... I spent so long leaving the horsemen. It was two thousand years ago," he said in measured tones, emphasising the great time involved. "But to you, to Kronos... it's as if it were yesterday, and my hands are still wet with the blood of children and old men. I did not like myself then any more than you do."

I caught up with him. "Methos, I do like you. I love you. That has not changed. I spoke foolishly. It will not happen again."

My hand on his pommel made him slow his mount. "So you say, Highlander. But I wonder how good you are at keeping your word. Do not make promises you cannot keep - you do not know what I may have to do to help you, and it is best you do not. All I ask is that you live, and let me be. I do not ask for your liking, or your love."

"And yet you have both, old man," I said softly.

I made my gelding move on. I did not look back, but I heard the horse's steps so I knew he was following me. We did not talk of it again as we reached the forest edge, and were forced in a short time to dismount and walk the horses through the dense woods. Samson had chosen a good place to hide from the world here, and I could see that Methos' idea of concealing some of our stores and people here might work.

"Think you we can teach them to survive here?" I asked, as we walked, he behind me, trusting me to lead the way.

"It is a fair question, Duncan, and the answer is that I do not know. There are no bears or wolves here, but the winters are harsh. If we can help people survive long enough that we can get them away past Kronos, or defeat him, yes, I think it will work. There are no easy options. Those few who have left, the tenant farms and towns will absorb them easily, but more, I cannot tell. You are the clan leader, perhaps you should be telling me."

I looked back at him, and I could tell his hazel eyes were sparkling, making mock of me.

"Be careful, old man, or I shall have thee in a kilt soon enough." I would rather have him without, but I did not say that.

"Well, Highlander, you and I have the legs for it, but I cannot imagine Dawson in a skirt."

I heard him chuckle - the image was amusing after all. I was glad he was in such a cheerful mood.

I found the clearing where Samson lived, and called softly. He stepped out of the brush, surprising me again at the quiet way he moved.

"So, boy, are you weary of the high life all ready? And this is Methos," he said simply. Methos walked to him and held out his hand, which was shaken respectfully. "You brought him back because he made an infernal nuisance of himself? Sorry, my lord, the deal was for one rescue, not two."

Methos smiled. "He is an infernal nuisance, as you say, Master Samson, but it is he who brings me, not the other way. May we sit and speak with you?"

We tied the horses and went inside the little hovel. Methos handed over the small cask of beer and the food we had brought him, and Samson shared out the drink, falling on the food like he had not eaten for a week. He listened as Methos explained what had happened, and what his plans were.

"If it were the boy telling me this, Lord, I would turn him out with a flogging for his stupidity. But since it's you - I have to say that your quarrels are none of mine."

"Yes, I know, Master Samson, but only consider this. The Horsemen are a plague on the earth, and no one can live in a plague-infected area without being infected themselves. You have been left alone - for now - but that will not last, I promise you. Join us, and you will share our food and drink, and our protection while you can, and we in turn, with your help, will defeat the Horsemen and rid ourselves of the pestilence."

"You truly think you can defeat them?" Samson's speech to Methos was deeply respectful, but then Methos treated him no less well. Warrior spoke unto warrior, I thought.

"In truth? Perhaps not. But we can save many of the people who live in the castle - with your help. And what goes for them will go for you. If we succeed in killing Kronos and the others, then you will benefit also. I cannot force you, Master Samson. We are supplicants. All I know is that there are over sixty souls there who will die if Kronos returns, and I want no more deaths on my head."

The old soldier rubbed his beard and drank deeply from his mug. "I too want no more deaths, Lord Methos. All right. Since it is you that asks, and I know what you risked for this young fella - even though he seems scarcely worth the effort." He grinned at me to show he joked. "I know the trees where the bow wood can come from. I'll need help to collect it, prepare it."

"I can do that, Samson," I said. " I know the craft."

"Good, boy. We begin tomorrow?"

"Will you come back with us, to share our food, Samson?" I asked.

"Not tonight boy, but perhaps tomorrow. You be here early, and bring ropes - is there another one who can help?"

"I think there might be. Come, Methos, we can leave Samson to his meat. I bid you farewell, master."

"Yes, Duncan." He watched us go. "Lord Methos, that one needs a good thrashing from time to time," he called.

Methos turned and grinned. "Aye, Master Samson. I'll see to it."

"I told him once you and he had much in common," I grumbled as we walked out.

"Yes, we both know a fool when we see one," he said tartly.

We were back near the castle in an hour. I saw him look wistfully back whence we had come. "Still want to leave?"

"More than ever," he said.

"Why? You know how I feel about you, how you feel about me."

For a moment, I felt he might turn the mare's head and ride off, and I had to stop myself reaching for his reins. "That is why I want to leave, Duncan." I looked at him. "Ties, emotions - responsibilities. Dangerous things for an Immortal. I have not lived so long thinking of any one but myself."

"I think, like Samson, I know a fool when I see one too, Methos," I said gently. "You do not know yourself as well as you think. Come, man, they will worry we have abandoned them."

Dawson's clear relief at our return proved that I had not spoken in jest. I noted with approval that the portcullis was down, and that Richard and a young woman were posted on the walls keeping watch. All was quiet and orderly in the castle but as we walked our mounts to the stable, I heard a sound I was well unused to - chatter. Light talk, and laughter. Not much, but it had been more than ten years since I had heard the noise of carefree people following their own lives. I looked at Methos, and I knew he knew what had pleased me. "There is a still a long road ahead of us, Duncan."

"Aye, Methos, but I would not deny them even this brief time of happiness. Their lives are too short."

He nodded in agreement. We stabled the horses, and brushed them down ourselves - the stable boy had undoubtedly been recruited by Dawson for other work. "Methos, I have something else I would like your help with."

He bowed deeply. "I live to serve you, Lord MacLeod."

I smacked his head - he had gone from distant to silly but I knew which one I preferred. "If you are quite done, old man, come to the hall."

He held his tongue about what I was planning, but when he saw I meant to move the heavy tables into a circle, he laughed. "If we had a round one, it would truly be Camelot."

"Does that make me Arthur, Methos?"

He tilted his head to look me over. "Launcelot, methinks."

"And that makes you Guinevere, I suppose, since I stole you from out the king's bed."

I found myself seized and shoved to the floor, his bony hips grinding into mine, his face inches from mine. "Does this feel like a maiden's touch to you, Highlander?" he growled, then plundered my lips.

When I could breathe, I answered him from a suddenly dry mouth. "N...no, it does not, Methos. My apologies."

He grunted and let me sit up. As soon as I was free, I stood a careful distance away. "Thy tits are too small for Guinevere," I laughed, and then dodged him. He chased me across the hall, and had picked up a chair to swing at me. "Hold! Enough, man. I take it back."

"Only if I can be Mordred, Launcelot," he said, still holding the chair threateningly.

"You can be Queen of the bloody May for all I care, man! Just put that down before you do me or yourself an injury."

He lowered it, then grabbed me again. His willing captive, I let him kiss me hard before he let me go. "Silly bugger," I said fondly. "Come on, we have not finished."

It was hard work moving the heavy oak tables, but I was satisfied with what we had done. "There - no high table, no one better than anyone else. Is it well done, Methos?"

"Aye, Highlander. Now, if my lord will release me, I have a smithy to put to rights. God knows what state that animal left it in. I will see you at supper, Duncan."

I found Dawson and told him that Samson had agreed to help us, which pleased him greatly, as did him seeing that Methos no longer treated me so coldly. I told him what had passed between us and he nodded approvingly. "You learn, not quickly, but you learn, Duncan. While you were away, we searched for armour and weapons - there were a few long knives, and some pikes that were forgotten, but other than what the dead guards had, there is not much. They had short swords, and daggers, but no bows."

"We will be able to make long bows for everyone, I think, and enough arrows." A thought struck me. "What happened to their bodies?"

"Methos and Richard buried them early this morning, with Peter's help." So Methos did not want to ask me - I felt ashamed again at my childish outburst.

Dawson distracted me with talk about supplies, and I had a request for him. "Can you make sure that we buy in enough cloth for all to have warm dress, and shoes for everyone. If they have to go to the woods, they will need it, and there will not be time later. Those that can sew can teach others to do the same. I want those with skills to share them, those without to learn. Even me, Joseph."

"Yes, Duncan, that is a good idea. When do we start preparing to move things out?"

"As soon as we can. I go to the forest tomorrow to cut wood for the weapons - I thought I would take Alison, she is strong and as tall as Richard. We do not need strength so much as a deft hand. But I thought I would look out a place to build shelters, and we should begin immediately. You will arrange to buy in what we do not have, and make sure we have barrels and chests dry and strong enough to store what we need. We need to move fast - we have four, maybe five months, at most, and there is much to do."

"We should just run for it, perhaps."

"We cannot, Dawson. We need Methos, and Kronos will come after us if he stays with us - if he does not stay, the others have little chance of surviving. Besides, the man needs killing."

"That he does, Duncan" Dawson said emphatically. "That he does."

The rest of that afternoon, I talked to my 'clansmen' - and women. Maya had already spoken to many of the females, and I found that they were enthusiastic about being released from their traditional duties. All wanted to learn how to fight, and quickly. Alison was pleased at the idea of going to the woods and helping there - I did not tell her that her womanly charms were at least as important as her strong back. I asked two girls to find Methos and offer him help in the smithy, which they did without delay. "What we must do is ready ourselves to live in the woods, and that means clothes, and tools and shelter."

"Master Duncan, I am afraid to go to the forest," one woman, Hetty, said timidly.

"No one will force you, Hetty. You are free to come and go as you wish. All I ask is that you help your friends that wish to go - will you do that?"

"Yes, master Duncan."

"Good lass. We have need of your brewing skills and your beer - I want you to teach two others your craft, you pick them. All of you," I said more loudly, "that can sew or bake or cook or render or whatever you are best at - you make sure that two other people know your craft. Men and women - I'll learn to spin if someone will teach me." That produced giggles. "Oh, you laugh now, but I can pluck a chicken as fast as my mother," I said mock fiercely.

"Aye, but can you stuff it?" a voice called out from the back, and there was more giggling.

"Nay, woman, I have been too busy stuffing other things." More giggles at the dirty joke. "Now, one more thing - we are all comrades now, and must work together. If you have a quarrel, you must settle it before the sun sets - we have not time for grudges. If you have a problem you cannot solve, you see me or Dawson."

"Not Methos?" someone asked.

"By his own choosing, no, lass. But he has a wise head, and you would do well to listen to his words. I trust him as I would my own brother. Now, off you go. Hetty, where is Bess?" referring to the young woman who had recently given birth.

She told me she was in the brewery. I went in search of her - I found her stirring a vat, the babe on her hip. "Are you well, Bess?" I asked.

"Yes, Master Duncan. A little tired sometimes."

"Can I hold him?"

She passed her son to me without demur. A fine boy, black haired, blue eyes. His father was one of Cassandra's guards and had left like the others. "Have you named him yet?"

"Not yet - there seemed no need."

I touched her face. "You are pale, lass. You must eat more, and rest. There is time for that - we cannot have anyone falling sick, and the best cure is prevention."

"Aye, Duncan, I know. It is just... I miss Tom so much," she whispered, and a tear rolled down her thin face.

"I know, Bess. This is a hard time for everyone. Why don't you leave that and go to the kitchen, or have a rest. One of the other women can look after his lordship for a while - I will hold him for an hour or two if you like."

"You?" She did not hide her surprise.

"Cheeky wench, I've dandled more children than you have had hot meals. Off you go - if he wants a feed, I will find you."

She gave me a last, slightly worried look but was glad to rest, I could tell. I looked down at the scrap in my arms who slept on peacefully. "I hope there will be a brighter future for you, young fellow."

I wrapped my cloak around both of us, and walked outside to the stables. I called out to Methos who appeared, brushing his hands off.

"The place is a mess," he said disgustedly. "What are you doing with that child, MacLeod? Is this part of your skill sharing plan?" He put his arms out and I handed the babe to him. "A bonny boy, considering. Did you bring him to show me?"

"No, I came to ask you to talk to his mother. She does not look well, Methos, and we cannot let any one get ill."

He nodded, rocking the baby gently. I wondered how many children had called him father over the centuries - he had a sure hand with them. "

"She had a difficult birthing. I would have like to help, but with Kronos... We have no midwife, and no one trained in healing."

"Will you talk to her? See if she is all right?"

"She probably needs to eat more. None of the slaves ate enough when the horsemen were here, and she needs more than most while she is feeding this one." Suddenly he thrust the baby back at me and turned away.

"Methos?"

"Leave it, Duncan."

I caught up with him and seized his shoulder. "Nay, man, we have had enough estrangement. What is wrong?"

"He... this... what have we done to these people, Highlander? I cannot save this infant, or his mother. What chance have we against Kronos? We would be better to put them to the sword."

I felt him shaking under my hand, and I pulled him close, the babe snuggled between us. "Methos, calm down," I said soothingly. "We have a plan to protect the weakest ones, and they will at least have more chance than Kronos would give them."

The baby began to snuffle, and we broke apart. I hitched him up to my shoulder and patted him as I spoke. "What happened to make you so skittish, old man?"

"Do you know how many times I have lived in a village and seen it torn apart by men like Kronos?" he asked bitterly. "Do you know how many times I was the one tearing the villages apart? I have seen more dead children than there are stars in the sky... and they are so very beautiful while they live," he whispered, touching the baby's face. "I hate caring," he said, still softly. "It hurts so much when they die."

I lifted his face. "Yes, it does, Methos, and no matter what we do, this little one will grow old and die, in fifty, seventy, maybe even a hundred years from now. But what matters is that he grows in freedom and has the chance to be happy. I want to give him that chance. I want to give you that chance too, even if you think you do not deserve it."

"I do not," he said, looking at the ground.

"Everyone does, Methos. Here, you take him. I want to talk to the guards." I pushed the tiny bundle into his hands.

"MacLeod," he protested, but I had already begun to walk off.

"His mother is resting. Why don't you go and find her in an hour?" I called over my shoulder, hiding my smile.

No one could be sad holding a baby, I knew - and I wanted Methos to bind himself to our people, and they to him. Children were a good way to start.

 

* * *

While Kronos ruled, only he and the horsemen, and their soldiers ate in the hall - everyone else grabbed food as and when they could, which was not often enough. I had asked that all who could, should join in the hall for their evening meal in future, as a convenient way to pass information on, and to help build a sense of community among them all. That did not mean we were to be waited on - I went to the kitchen to help bring out bowls and bread, and Dawson took my lead. The meal was already on the table before Methos loped in - he had handed back the child at some point I saw, and although he grimaced at me as he approached, he sat next to me.

"I spoke to Bess - her blood is too thin. I have told the cook to make sure she eats meat every day, and milk."

"Is she in danger?"

"Not yet, but you did well to tell me about her, Duncan. She needs someone to help her with the baby - she was taken from her home too young to know the ways of child-rearing, and she has no mother to support her. I have asked Maya to keep an eye on her."

"Thank you, Methos." He merely grunted as he began to spoon soup into his mouth.

Once again I was struck by the happy sound of the throng, and although I still had one or two doubts about the wisdom of my return, listening to people laugh, and joke and shout across the tables made them disappear quickly. Methos was still the subject of a good many speculative glances, but he kept his opinions, and his looks, to himself, speaking only to me or Dawson on his left. Richard was on the far side of the table, and from the way he was laughing at Maya, I thought there was a budding romance going on there. All to the good, I thought. The clan needed strengthening in every direction. I found Methos was looking at me.

"You're good at this, Highlander," he said. "It is not a skill I have."

"I think you are better at it than you think, old man," I said quietly. "I would trust your judgement about a man above anyone else that I have ever met."

"Four thousand years has to be good for something, I suppose," he said with a shrug.

"How goes the smithing?"

"Well, once I had stopped playing wet nurse," he said severely, "I checked what supplies we had. I think making swords is beyond us, and frankly a waste of time. We have the soldier's weapons, and if Richard should need one...," he paused, and I knew what he meant, "they will do until we can find or make him a better. I think we should make metal arrow heads, pike heads and breast plates for the guards - we have enough metal for that. I do not think we will have time for more - there are still things the castle needs, not that Caspian gave a damn about that. Horseshoes and the like," he elaborated.

"Agreed then. Did your women find you?"

"Yes, and thank you. There is a boy, John, who I can use also, and he can work in the stables. He tends the cows now, but I think he can manage the rest."

"Do not work him too hard, Methos. I want him to have a childhood too." The lad was only ten - he had been born just after Cassandra bought me.

"What is that, Highlander? I do not recall having one myself."

"You were born old, that's why. Pass the bread."

I was aware that this was the first time I had sat in this hall as a free man, and the first for many months when I was not being degraded in some form or another. For that matter, it was the first time Methos and I had sat anywhere in public together as equals, free to talk to each other without worrying who would overhear. He looked less than relaxed, wary if anything, although he pretended he could not see the curious looks.

"You are among friends, Methos," I said quietly to him. He snorted. "It is true, and if it is not, it soon will be. You will physick them, and teach them, and help them arm themselves, and soon they will come to love you as I do."

I thought he was going to choke to death. "Manners," I muttered, wiping the spatters of soup from my clothes. He was still chortling as I took the spoon out of his hand in self-defence.

"Oh, Duncan, we will not have to cut Kronos' head off - I shall just bring him back to listen to your nonsense, and he will die laughing."

"What is so foolish, man?"

"They - love me? A man who brought the Horsemen upon them? Be sensible."

"I am being sensible. You made me love you, withal."

"And there I rest my case. Give me back my spoon." He snatched it out of my hand and glared at me, before falling on his food again. He would see, I promised myself.

We took our plates to the kitchen and scraped then into the slops. "May I come to you tonight?" I asked hopefully.

He gave me a sweet smile, but shook his head. "Not tonight, _mo cridhe_. I will be poor company. Perhaps tomorrow?" He took my hand and kissed it quickly.

"I will hold you to that, Methos," I said thickly. I had become aroused during our horseplay in the hall earlier, and being so close to him, I wanted to sweep him up and make love to him on the spot. I could see he was tired, and still tense - his emotions had shifted much during the day, and much else had changed. I would not push him.

"Good night, Duncan," he said, and took himself off.

I should have got some sleep myself, since I had promised Dawson I would take the midnight shift, but I felt restless. There was so much to do, and so much responsibility for so many. I prowled around the castle, checking that all was secure, that the horses were fed and watered, that there were no untended fires. I badly wanted to be with Methos - two months apart was too long - but he was in a strange mood, and I did not want him to take fright and run, as I feared he might do. He had known Kronos for a thousand years - however much Methos hated the man, killing him could be no small thing. Nor an easy thing.

Suddenly, what we were planning seemed ridiculous, remembering the ease with which the man had overrun our lives and our mistress. He seemed truly invincible, without fear or sense of right and wrong or doubt. I wondered yet again how my Methos, who seemed plagued by his memories and his conscience, who loved life and all who enjoyed it, could have spent so long with that monster? Yes, he had been a slave, and yes I believed he had had little choice - in the beginning. But a thousand years? I could not comprehend the time span, let alone what he had done.

I realised my mind would not give me any rest that night, so I took myself up to where Richard was maintaining the first watch. He was surprised but pleased to see me, still full of the importance of his new role as a free man, responsible for the safety of so many. I realised that Methos probably knew this lad better than I did, which shamed me - Cassandra had bought him a year before Methos had arrived. He was underfed even then, suspicious and given to cringing if anyone spoke loudly to him. Dawson had befriended him, and I had always spoken as kindly as I could to him, but it was Methos who had discovered that the boy had never been anything but a slave. But for Methos, I realised, I would have dismissed the boy as unimportant, and yet here he was taking on a new role as if born to it, taking part willingly in the decisions about the futures of all of us. If my strength was binding people together, Methos' was that of discovering the hidden depths in men and women. I wondered what he saw in me, that others did not. Perhaps he saw no more than they, and I thought I may in fact be a disappointment to him in that.

"What will you do, Duncan, when we have defeated Kronos?" Richard asked me suddenly.

"Do, lad? Just go on, I suppose - I cannot abandon these people to their fate."

"Oh. So you won't be going home then?"

"To Scotland? One day, perhaps." When all here are dead and gone, I thought to myself. "Where were you born, Richard?"

"I don't know. I have lived in this country all the life I can remember. But it is not home, I feel that."

"You will have plenty of time to seek that, lad."

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him about his future immortality but yet I did not. I had not known any Immortal who knew before they died the first time that they would come back to life, and I wondered if there was a good reason for that. I should have discussed it more with Methos, I realised.

"You will teach me the longbow this week, Duncan?" His mind was already back in the present, for which I was glad. I said I would, as soon as the bows were made. He asked me a little about the art of making the bows, and the arrows too. He was good with his hands, I had seen that, and I would use him to help me with the bow making if he was free. The clock struck eleven, and I sent him inside early. I was alone then with my thoughts.

Peter came to relieve me at two o'clock. All was quiet, as we had expected. Boredom was our biggest danger - complacent guards were no protection. Unfortunately, I was no more sleepy than I was when I went up on the wall. I went to the door of my room, but something drove my feet forward, and up the next flight of stairs. I stopped myself before I actually knocked on Methos' door. What was I doing? The man was tired - I was tired, if not sleepy. I was being childish. I should have gone, but I stood there, unable to make myself move, and finally the choice was taken away from me when the door open, and a tousled Methos looked at me sleepily.

"For God's sake, Duncan, come in or go away. You're giving me a headache standing there." He held out his hand, and I came into his arms gratefully.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

He chuckled low in his chest. "I wondered how long it would be. Come to bed, Highlander, all will be easier in the morning."

I wondered again at how easily the man read me, and how thankful I was for that. I tucked him into the hollow of my neck where he belonged, and we both fell asleep quickly, my mind free to stop bustling at last.

I woke to a nudge in my ribs and a kiss on my forehead. I did not want to get up, but I remembered that I had to make an early start to meet Samson. Methos did not exactly bound out of bed. I leant over him. "Get up, old man, the daylight is wasting."

"Humph. Rich for someone who is sleeping hours past the dawn, Highlander. Why don't you fetch us both breakfast, as you're going that way?" He curled up under the blankets, his eyes firmly shut. I was not going to stand for that, and stripped the bedding back. He glared at me. "Is this the thanks I get for allowing you to stay, MacLeod?"

"No, Methos. This is the punishment for giving into my nonsense." I smacked his skinny arse. "And I don't fetch food for you any more, or have you forgotten?"

"Be fair, Duncan," he whined. "I have a hard day's work in front of me, while you dally in the forest with your friends."

I put a hand on his ankle to tug him out, but quicker than I had ever seen anyone move, he leapt up and knocked me down. A second later, he was astride me, my hands pinned down, thoroughly trapped. "I advise you not to ever try evicting me from my bed, Highlander. I have been known to carry out beheadings with very little warning at all."

"My apologies, old man. Are you going to let me up?"

"Are you going to bring me my breakfast?"

"No."

He looked at me thoughtfully. "Then we have a problem."

He was surprisingly heavy on my stomach, and felt uncomfortable. I tried to buck him off, but I could not get any purchase. "I can sit here all day, Duncan. I am perfectly content."

I knew he was serious. With a mighty heave, I managed to roll, destabilising him and throwing him off. I tried to scuttle out from under him, and almost succeeded, but he grabbed my wrist and pulled it tight up behind my back. To move, I would have to dislocate my shoulder.

"Methos, you're skin and bone. Where do you get the strength?"

"Didn't your Da ever tell you not to take on smiths, boy? Now, about my breakfast..."

"All right. You win, " I grumbled, but as soon as he released me, I flipped him and sat on him.

"MacLeod, you promised!" He contrived to look genuinely aggrieved, but I was having none of that.

"The word of a slave has no value, I recall someone saying. Now, if I let you up, will you get your lazy arse downstairs and get your own food?"

"No."

"Then we have a problem." He had the temerity to put his hands behind his head and grin at me. "You are infuriating, you know that? Why this insistence on being waited on?"

"Would you believe, so that I can enjoy more of your company alone?"

"Not for a minute."

"I thought not. Then, perhaps it is because I want to keep my strength for something else, Highlander." He traced a nail down my chest, and around a nipple. I shivered and became hard almost instantly. "But of course, if I have to get dressed and go downstairs, I might not be in the mood any longer."

"You," I said, poking him in the chest. "Stay here. And you'd better be in the mood when I get back, old man, or I will take it out of your sorry hide."

I got off him, but he lay there, still grinning cheekily. I pulled on my breeches, shaking my head at his manipulation.

He began to stroke his cock slowly as I watched him. "I'd hurry back if I were you, Duncan," he said softly, and his laughter followed me out of the room as I hastened to bring him the breakfast he was so set on having in bed.

I will give him this - he made it worth my while.

 

* * *

I dressed hastily for the second time that morning, leaving a rumpled looking Methos still lording it over the bed, and ran downstairs very late. Alison was waiting patiently for me. "I'm sorry, Alison - I... um, had business to attend to. What?" I asked, as she grinned at me.

"Tuck your shirt in, Duncan." I did as she bid. "You know, I've known you for five years, and I don't think I've ever seen you smile like this."

"You've never known me a free man," I said gruffly.

"No, it's not that," she said thoughtfully, as she followed me out to the yard. Her humour turned to concern as we approached the stables.

"Something the matter, lass?"

"Duncan, I've never ridden a horse. I thought we were walking."

I had not even considered the difficulty but of course, when would she have ridden? I could not recall when she had ever left the castle grounds before. "Do not worry. The horses are placid, and I will lead. We need them - we have a lot of wood to carry, and we are late as it is."

"Aye, and I wonder whose fault that is?" she said tartly.

I mounted her behind me on the sprightlier of the two horses we were to take, and the other was tied on a leading rein. "Ready, girl?"

We set off at a smart clip. She hugged my waist tightly, but when I managed to force the horse to something approaching a gallop, she shouted with delight. "Oh Duncan! This is wonderful!"

I was glad to give her joy. Our ride was over too soon - the woods were not that far from the castle, and we dismounted. As we walked through the trees, I saw her apprehension.

"They saw the woods are haunted, Duncan."

"So they do, lass. And a good thing too, if it keeps the Horsemen out. I assure you, you are safe here."

I distracted her by naming all the trees, and getting her to repeat them back to me, and then explaining what we were about to do, how we had left it a little late to collect the heartwood and how ideally we would do so when the sap was not rising. She was not strictly necessary today, but she would have her uses, and I wanted her to know the entire process, so she could teach others. It struck me in what a state of ignorance most slaves were kept - no schooling, most torn from their parents too young to learn from them, and isolated often with a poor knowledge of the language. Cassandra had no interest in teaching her slaves, and yet most were intelligent enough.

Samson hid himself at our approach, but emerged from the shadows. "You're late, boy," he started to say, but then he stopped at the sight of Alison. "Welcome, maid," he said formally, and when she held out her hand, he kissed it in a curiously courtly manner, which made her blush.

"I want Alison to learn the craft of bow making, Samson. I think you will find her a help."

"She is already welcome for herself, Duncan. " I hid my grin.

Samson led us to a large yew tree he had selected. We only wanted the heartwood to cut the staves, but he would use the rest for charcoal. As we got ready to fell the tree, we talked about where we could hide our people - he suggested doing so in groups of ten or so, in single huts not far from each other but secluded. He worried about food for so many - I told him we had only to see them through a single season, and with luck we could lead them out, and away without the fear of Kronos pursuing next spring. Alison had many ideas, and I watched with satisfaction how Samson talked to her. My friend had been lonely too long, and Alison was sad - they could do each other good.

Felling the tree took most of the morning, what with taking the crown off, and then cutting the trunk. We left the branches where they lay - Samson would collect them later for his charcoal. Alison and I concentrated on the heart wood - it was a fine tree, and would provide enough for twenty bows, more than enough for us to be getting on with. I split the trunk into the staves, and bundled them up. We had led one of the horses with us, and we loaded him with the split wood. Then we rested before continuing, sharing our bread and meat and beer with Samson.

"Will you come back tonight, Samson? You are welcome to stay," I told him.

He cast a sidelong glance at Alison, who was looking flushed and most pretty, daintily eating her food. "Aye, Duncan. I think it is time to try the civilised life again. Tell me, how does Methos do?"

Now was my turn to blush, thinking how I had left the man looking totally debauched, licking the lips that had been wrapped so pleasantly around my cock a minute before. "He does well, Samson."

"I wonder that he stays, Duncan. A man like that could go anywhere, be anything."

"If it were not for Kronos, he could," I said. Samson had voiced my own fears. "We are thankful he does not."

"I would not rely on him, Duncan."

"Think you that he is untrustworthy?'

"Nay, lad. But he is like a wolf -you can feed him, and you can draw him near, but he will never be tame. If he stays, it is because he wishes, and not by force."

"I have no wish to force anyone, Samson. I am sick of people being used like cattle."

He grinned at me over his mug. "But such is the way of the world, boy. You can build your Utopia, but others may not be able to stand its existence."

I had no answer for him, and we finished our meal in silence. Samson turned his attention to Alison, and I was happy for him to do so, leaving me alone with my thoughts. On our way back to his hut, he pointed out likely locations for the little dwellings we would need to build, and where a storehouse could be made near a stream. "The water is good here, and pure. It is not thus through all the forest."

I decided to take the gelding that carried the wood bundles, and the reins of Samson's donkey were tied to my saddle. Samson and Alison rode the other horse back, and if Samson objected to a handsome woman clutching him tightly around his middle, I could not discern it.

I was alarmed to hear the sound of swordplay as we neared the castle, but the lack of concern on the faces of the guards, and on Dawson, made me temper my worry. The source was not hard to divine - Methos and Richard were facing each other, in front of an appreciative audience. The boy, John, took the horses from us, so I could stop and watch my lover in action. Richard, naturally, was not the slightest match for his, but I was impressed how Methos made the boy look as if he was fighting an equal battle, while still teaching him as he fought.

I had not seen Methos fight before - they had both stripped to the waist, and were both sweaty and breathing hard. My God - I had to catch my own breath at the sight. He moved like a dancer, light and deadly. I knew Richard was in no danger but still, it was like watching a snake play with a rat. Methos had the grace to make it last long enough for Richard not to feel disgraced when finally, he had his sword at the boy's throat. "Do you yield?" he asked formally. Richard nodded, and Methos helped him stand, before bowing.

"Well done, lad. You have the makings of a fine swordsman." Richard flushed with pleasure, and my heart warmed to see it.

"Would you like to take on another, Master Methos?" I called.

He looked up and smiled, and my heart melted further. "With pleasure, sirrah."

I took off my shirt and jerkin, handing it to Alison to hold. Richard handed me the sword he was using - one of the guards', I saw. Not a graceful weapon, but serviceable. As I stood and faced Methos, I saw a slight glimmer of mischief in his eyes, and I knew this fight was going to be a lot more of a challenge than the one Richard had faced. By now, most of the household had come out to watch - it was nearing sunset, and the evening meal, so people had stopped their work for the day. And in any event, this was first class entertainment by any day's standard.

We edged around each other, watching each other warily. I wondered how far he would go, but short of killing him, I was not prepared to give him any quarter. Without warning, he leapt. He was fast, far faster than I expected, and I was on the back foot, the worst position. I pressed forward, and trapped his sword. "Not good enough," I said, grinning, as he pushed me back. We were careful not to cut each other too deeply- not for our sakes, but because it would beg too many questions. Besides, this was for fun, not to prove anything. Or so I thought, but it was clear Methos had other ideas. People were forced to scatter when I stumbled under Methos' onslaught, and there were gasps as steel against steel made sparks.

"You are out of practice, Highlander," he taunted.

"And you have a big mouth, old man," managing to slice him along his ribs.

He narrowed his eyes and renewed his attack. I had to wonder where he got his energy from - from the state of him, he had put a hard day in the forge, and had already fought a duel of sorts with Richard, yet he was besting me without breaking a sweat.

"Come on, child," he crooned, " you can do better. I fancy milady Elspeth could fight better than this," making the crowd laugh. Elspeth was seventy-three with the arthritis, and was giggling hard at the idea.

"She can have you when I am done with you, ancient one. If there is anything left, that is."

By now, people were openly egging one or other of us on, and we were playing up to them. The sound of happy ribaldry was intoxicating - and distracting. Suddenly I was on the ground with a sharp sword at my neck.

"Tut, tut, Highlander. We need to work on your technique. Do you yield?"

"Aye, Methos," I said with a bad grace.

He held out his hand, and his grin was pure evil. I promised him retribution with a look.

"Master Samson, would you like a turn?"

People's heads snapped towards the charcoal burner, and I saw their shock at Methos' invitation. They knew the man only as a crazy old semi-hermit. I knew what Methos was up to - the question was, would Samson take the bait? The presence of Alison, I am sure, made the difference. He slowly straightened up from his slouch, and I handed him the sword I had used. He tested its weight, and I was reminded again that whatever he seemed now, Samson was once a soldier and a warrior of great skill. It was that Methos had seen, and it was that he wanted the rest of the household to see.

Samson did not dance around Methos as I had done, but instead leapt with a roar, startling me - Methos as well, I think. Suddenly, Samson looked every inch the fighter, his years, and his 'madness' slipping off him like a snake's old skin. For the first time that afternoon, Methos was hard pressed. The battle went on and on, both of them collecting small cuts. Incredibly, Methos began to lose, and even when he made a nimble tumbling movement to dodge a vicious slicing strike, Samson was right on him. If the fight were serious, I would have feared for the Immortal's head.

Beside me, Alison was watching with her hands clasped together, half excited, half terrified by the exhibition. The crowd had fallen silent, and all that could be heard was the ringing of the steel and the harshness of the two men's breathing. Finally Methos slipped, and Samson's sword was in the hollow of his throat.

"Yield," Methos croaked, and Samson pulled the weapon away, saluting him with it. The assembly was too stunned to speak, but when Methos smiled slowly, they began to applaud. Alison bounced up and down a little on her toes, and when Samson came over and swept her to give her a light-hearted kiss, she did not fight him. I helped Methos stand.

"Now who is in need of practice, old man?"

"Leave off, Duncan," he said in pretended irritation. "We are all as rusty as can be, and must needs improve. The woodsman has a surprise or two up his dirty sleeve, I see."

"Come and eat, Methos. Then you can show me a move or two of your own."

His grin answered mine, and promised a more intimate encounter later that evening.

The days quickly settled into the pattern established that day. People would attend to their tasks in the morning, but in the late afternoon, they would slowly drift to the courtyard, where Methos, or Samson would be teaching sword craft, or Dawson the art of close fighting, or where I had set up targets for archery. The bows were ready in just over a week, and the evenings were occupied in making arrows or oiling the bows. It turned out our women were the finest archers, and many were naturals. Methos was teaching more than a few how to use a sword, and a pike, and had dubbed his best students his Valkyries.

Gentle Maya was his apprentice of a different sort, becoming our herbalist under his direction, and spending much time in the woods seeking the plants she needed. Under Methos' and her care, the health of all was good. The improved diet made a difference, and I was pleased to see Bess' pale cheeks regain their bloom. We all needed to keep our strength up - there was much to do. All the adults took turn keeping watch, and the construction of a storehouse in the forest occupied us for nearly a month. If need be, the store could house a few people at a pinch as well, but we made a start on the little huts as soon as it was finished. Dawson began to discreetly buy in extra stores from the town and farms, and these were stored outside the castle.

I think we all worked harder and longer than we ever had under Cassandra or Kronos, but never with such willing hearts, for it was to prosper ourselves and our own people that we worked. Samson threw himself into the effort willingly, and if he and Alison perhaps took longer than strictly necessary on their journeys into the woods to cut ash and birch for arrows, and to make the charcoal Methos needed for the smithy, I for one was not going to chide them.

Methos was like to wear himself out, I thought. He worked metal in the forge, and taught his apprentices. When he was not there, he was teaching the sword or the bow, or seeing to the dozen of so minor injuries a day our people seemed to collect. He often had Bess' babe - now named Andrew at my suggestion - with him, as she talked to him about the child's growth and his childish illnesses. There seemed little that he had not turned his hand to over the centuries, and once he was known to be a seemingly endless font of knowledge on any number of matters, there always seemed to be someone asking for his attention in the forge, or begging his help to fix this, or improve that.

Not once did I see him turn anyone away, and he seemed to have endless patience for the children, who found him fascinating, whether with a hammer or a weapon or a quill in his hands. Their mothers too would gather to hear his stories as he worked. He was never unoccupied that I saw, and as often as not in the evening, he would slip away from the table with only a simple 'good night' and no invitation to join him, being too weary for company. His meals were interrupted over and over by someone or other wanting to talk to him, or ask advice about this or that. His food would get stone cold before he had a chance to touch it, too many times. It became so bad that I insisted that people left him alone until he ate - he was skinny enough as it was.

He protested. "Duncan, you wanted people to love me, and now you want them to leave me alone?"

"They can love you after you eat, old man. And you could find time for me, if you were so minded," I added quietly.

"Perhaps you should just order me to your bedroom, master," he said tartly, then ignored me for the rest of the meal.

His words gave me an idea. He had become very dirty, the work in the smithy seeming to leave him sooty all the time, and I knew that he was normally more fastidious than that - he must be, I realised, just too tired to bathe in the evenings, and too busy to take the time elsewhere. When he made his leave-taking for that evening, I went to the kitchen and set water on to boil, then enlisted Richard's and Maya's help. An hour later, I was knocking at his door.

"What do you want, Duncan?" he said snappishly, then saw Richard with the tub, and Maya with clean clothes and towels.

"Your bath awaits, Lord," I said politely.

He stood aside, too surprised to protest as our little troop laid the supplies in his room. I closed the door after Richard and Maya.

"Duncan, what the hell are you doing? You don't need..."

"No, old man, but I want and you need. You are wearing out to a frazzle and I cannot have that. We need you to be well and rested."

"I am Immortal, Highlander. I won't die."

I stood before him and cupped his face in my hand. "No, _mo cridhe_ , but thou art tired and dirty and in need of loving. Please let me."

He stood very still, looking at me. Under the dirt on his face, he was tired, and pale too. "You do not need to work so hard for their affection, Methos."

"I do it for their well-being, Duncan. Nothing else."

"And who sees to yours?" He shrugged. "It should be me. I am sorry for neglecting you." He made to speak, but I put a finger on his lips. "Nay. Just say 'yes, Duncan."

"Yes, Duncan," he said obediently, with an impish smile. He let me strip him of his dirty clothes, and sank gratefully into the hot water I had brought. I soaped a cloth and wiped his thin face and then his arms, leaving a trail of white flesh where the dirt was gone.

"You are worried about Kronos coming back, aren't you?" I guessed.

"Aren't you?" he asked tired and a little irritably.

"Yes, old man, but you do not have to push yourself so hard. The sword lessons are not necessary - we will not be taking the horsemen on hand to hand."

"I know that," he said slightly peevishly, shifting impatiently in the water. "But it gives the women confidence, and builds the reflexes. Richard will have need of it one day, and from what I have seen, you could stand to improve."

"It is one more duty, Methos. Thy day is long enough. Smithing is not child's play."

"It is not so bad now," he confessed. "We have made the plates to rivet to the leather breast pieces. I can leave that to Susan and Jenny to take care of."

"You see that you do. You have not been out the castle for a month or more. I want you to come with me tomorrow to see the new buildings."

"As you wish, Duncan," he murmured tiredly. I continued to wash him, and he actually fell asleep under my hands. I would have left him there if he were not in danger of becoming too cold, and besides, I needed to wash his hair which had become very unkempt. He spluttered awake as I poured the water over his head, but the expected complaint never came. Instead he smiled, and soaped his hair himself, until I took it over, to massage his head and get it really clean before I rinsed the soap out. He yawned as I dried him.

"And here I was, planning this great seduction after I got you clean," I muttered, not really annoyed.

"My apologies, Duncan. If my dead body will serve you, then have your way, man, otherwise, I beg you to let me rest."

I kissed his brow, then his lips, trailing my lips down his neck and suckling at his nipple before freeing him.

"Have thy rest, old man. All I ask is that you let me stay tonight."

"I would be churlish to refuse that, now wouldn't I?"

He sat to let me dry his hair more. I tugged it gently. "You should cut this, it is becoming like a mane."

He snorted. "I would not let you touch it after what you did to yours, Highlander. What did you use? - your sword?"

"Near enough. There was nothing better at that time, and I could not wait."

"One day you will learn that slavery marks the soul more than the body. Your hair is not the sign you are not free. No one looking at you would ever think you other than your own man."

"Now, perhaps. Methos - what will you do if we do not defeat Kronos?"

He twisted up to look at me. "Now, you ask. A little late for that, isn't it, Duncan?" I waited for a better answer and he sighed. "The answer is - I do not know. I am not ready to die."

"Can you call it living, being with him? Because I do not."

"Upright and breathing is all I have come to ask for, MacLeod. The rest are merely details."

I came around in front of him, and seized his bony shoulders. "I do not believe you, Methos. I think you would rather die than be his slave again."

His eyes were hooded. "And I think, better a live slave than a dead free man."

I shook him carefully. "We are not so different," I insisted. "You would not work so hard if you did not believe freedom was better."

"I did not say it was not, Duncan. As to why I work so hard - I owe more than I can ever repay. It does not change the fact that Kronos will likely win, and our efforts will be for naught."

"You say that?" I cried, angry at his defeatism. "We can never win if we do not believe we will."

He put his hand over my heart. "Calm yourself, man. You have belief enough for all of us. I am old, and cynical. Do not listen to my sourness."

He smiled to placate me, and I decided it was too late, and he, too tired, for this. He was wrong, I was sure of it, and time would prove him so. I held out my hand.

"Come and sleep, old man. Let me see if I can make you more cheerful."

"You already have, child," he murmured, as I led him to the bed.

I was awake hours before he stirred, but I was content to lie chest to back, my face nestled in his hair, one hand curled loosely around his cock, the other tracing light circles on his warm skin. I knew when he was waking because he began to rock, ever so gently, into my hand and back against my morning erection. I let him set the pace, my fist a sheath for his use. He seemed in no hurry, his breathing even and slow, his movements likewise controlled. He brought his hands up and clasped the one I had resting on his chest, bringing it up to his lips to kiss and lick. "What do you want, _mo leannan_?" I whispered into his ear.

"This, heart."

"As you wish."

He sighed and I breathed in the smell of his clean hair, the musk of his skin. I licked the back of his neck, and he shivered. I did it again, and felt his erection burgeon in my hand. He rocked a little faster, and I began to stroke him, lightly and without pressure. He took my fingers in his mouth and began to suckle on them.

"I will not last forever if you do that," I warned him in a hoarse whisper.

"Nothing lasts forever, Duncan."

My cock slid over the warm silky skin of his back, and his cock slipped easily in and out of my fist. I licked his shoulder, and his neck and he trembled all over, like a young colt. He bit on my fingers, and I took that as a signal that he wanted more from me. I held him a little more tightly, and stroked a little more quickly, and at last, his breathing began to quicken. Without warning, warmth spilled onto my hand, and the sudden lush smell of it drove me over the edge so that I spattered his back with my seed. He chuckled.

"You see, Highlander? There was no point in cleaning me up if you were just going to dirty me all over again."

"Maybe you should do the cleaning this morning," I growled in his ear, and brought my hand to his lips. He licked it delicately with his pink tongue, swirling it into my palm until I tugged it away with a gasp. "That tickles, you bastard." I bent down behind him, and licked his back clean, tracing my tongue over his sensitive flank until he too was wriggling out of my hold. He turned to exact retribution for the liberty, but I was expecting the attack and seized his hand. "Nay, old man. Enough of that, we have things to do." I let him kiss me before I got up, pulling him up behind me.

"You know I have many things to do today, Duncan, I don't think..."

"That's right. Don't. You are having a holiday, Methos, and I really do want your opinion on what we have done up there."

"By your command, Master Duncan." He bowed low, and I threw the clean clothes I had brought with me at him.

Once dressed, I looked at him critically. "Sit, you cannot go out like that - your hair looks like a badly made wig." I took out my comb and carefully untangled all the knots, before braiding it tidily and tying it off.

"Thank you, Duncan. I have to confess that I missed naught about your slavery, save that. You have a sure touch."

"You are a sybarite, I think. Come, we must break our fast and then ride."

He insisted on giving instructions to his apprentices before we left, but if I had not forcibly dragged him away and onto one of the horses, he would have been there all day.

"I think I preferred you before, Methos, when you had no responsibility to anyone but yourself."

"You want irresponsible? I can do irresponsible," then he kicked the carthorse he was on, and galloped away, forcing me to chase him on my much slower, and reluctant, mount.

He raced me to the edge of the forest, then sat and watch my horse move ponderously to a halt. I seized his shirt and kissed him.

"I was wrong. I prefer you responsible."

"Make your mind up, Highlander," he said peevishly, but grinned all the while.

We dismounted and walked into the woods. He was well pleased with what we had done, only suggesting that we put turf on the walls, and earth on the sides to reduce the risk of fire. "If you do the same with your huts, they will be warmer too. We could easily have a winter even harsher than the last."

We stopped by Samson's hut - it was empty, but there were bags of charcoal we could bring back with us. We loaded our horses and walked out of the forest. As I mounted, I peered toward the north. Methos saw my gaze. "Trouble?"

"I think, yes." I quickly untied the bags, and he did the same. "We have to hurry."

This time there was no play in our gallop back, and my fears were proved right. We did not quite manage to get to the gate before our unwanted visitors arrived. "Kalas," I said to Methos. He felt the Presence at the same time I did.

"One of us? You did not mention this, Duncan."

"I thought I did. It does not matter - mortal or Immortal, he's a threat."

We positioned ourselves in front of the portcullis - Dawson had already shut the gate behind it and was now watching us from the wall.

"My lord Kalas. Can we assist you?" I asked politely, but did not dismount.

He sat with his arms folded on his charger. "Duncan, a pleasure to see you again. I see your horse suits your station." I ignored the insult. "I heard that the Lady Cassandra died, and that your new masters had abandoned you. I came to offer you my protection."

"You are mistaken, my lord. We have protection enough, and we are our own masters now."

Beside me, Methos was silent, but Kalas was watching him with keen interest. "You have acquired more slaves since I was here last, I see. But slaves cannot be masters. I suggest you let me in so I can take charge of matters."

I lifted my sword. "You are not welcome, milord. And I told you, we do not need others to take charge. If you do not believe me, I would be pleased to demonstrate."

"You dare lift a sword to me, boy? I will cut your throat for that!" he roared, and his horse surged forward.

Suddenly Methos raised his sword, and yelled. "Now!" then he screamed like a banshee. From behind and above us, arrows rained down. Kalas' horse was struck in the neck, and fell, forcing him off. Behind him, his men were being driven back by the onslaught from above. I noted that not a man was struck, but that instead the horses were being targeted. Kalas ran at me, and I slid off my mount to face him but I found myself blocked by Methos on his own horse. He put his sword at Kalas' neck.

"Not today, milord Kalas," he said quietly, and menacingly. "I suggest you take your sorry band of thugs back off home. And since I wager it is a long walk, I also suggest you start now."

Kalas sneered, and Methos sliced a little at the most vulnerable point on an Immortal's body, making the lord move back in defence. "That's right, sirrah. Keep moving in that direction, and we will have no quarrel."

His men began to strip their horses. "Leave them, " I shouted, and a glance upwards confirmed to them that our archers stood ready to enforce my command. They walked off with an ill grace, and finally, Kalas followed them

"I will be back, Duncan. I promise you."

"I'll be here, milord. We can always use the saddles."

As they walked away, Methos murmured, "And so it begins."

I took his reins. "Why did you stop the challenge? I could have taken him."

"Could you? I was not sure, and I could not take the risk. That was not a fight you needed to have today, Duncan. When will you learn that your precious honour is not the most important thing in the world?"

I smiled in apology. "Probably never. Thank you."

He bowed his head in acknowledgement. "Duncan, you and Dawson and the rest, we need to talk this evening. Samson too. This is but the start." I nodded in agreement.

We stood until our attackers were half a mile away and then I signalled to Dawson to open the gate. I checked the horses, cutting the throats of the worst injured, and taking arrows from three that were hurt, but could be healed. Richard ran out, and I handed him the reins.

"Methos, know you much about treating horses?" I asked.

He rubbed his chin in imitation of old Samson. "Well, I've treated men like you before - how different can it be?" Dawson grinned.

I shouted to the archers on the wall. "Well done, good people! See how you have driven the invaders off!"

We were cheered as we re-entered the castle, and I felt jubilant at having defeated Kalas so easily. I was not fool enough to think the man would not try again but we would be even more ready for him - I had thought our people were still too green to meet such a threat, but the trick with the horses, that was Methos' doing.

"I think I was wrong to say the sword drill was unnecessary," I said to him as we walked back to the stables. "You are not just teaching the sword, are you?"

"One or two little things, that's all," he said innocently.

"You might have warned me, I nearly pissed myself when you yelled like that."

"Really? I thought you were made of sterner stuff, MacLeod," he said mockingly.

By common assent, the day was made a half-holiday. People wanted to talk out their excitement and lingering fear over their first real battle, and I was well pleased with their efforts. I learned that our archers were none other than Methos' Valkyries, well named they were in their borrowed armour.

"Those breastplates you are making, Methos, you make sure these have the pick of them first," I said.

"I already planned to do so, Duncan. Well, lasses, come and tell me of your great feats."

I left him surrounded by flushed and excited women, demonstrating how they had taken this or that target out.

Dawson was tending to our new acquisitions, seeing to the dressing and cleaning of the wounds. Maya was preparing poultices. Both were grinning like loons. "No small victory, Duncan MacLeod," Dawson said.

"Not at all, Joseph. Do you think these will do?"

"Aye. What of the dead ones?"

"We cannot afford to waste them - butcher the meat to be dried, and the hides will do for our new huts. Best get them inside the gate."

"I'll see to it." He started to walk off.

"Methos wants us to meet later," I told him. "Come to my room before supper."

"I knew he would have things to say - that one always does," he said ruefully.

I sent Richard off to collect the bags of charcoal we had dropped. Methos saw the backside of his horse disappearing out the gate.

"Duncan, where is the boy going?" When I told him, he was furious. "Are you deranged? Think you that Kalas is the only predator wanting to walk off with the prize? No one - no one - should leave these walls without a guard, and alone. Even you. It will be too easy to pick us off - we are not many, and a few here, a few there, and we will be unable to defend ourselves."

I cursed my own foolishness. "Should I go after him?"

He sighed, and shook his head. "Oh, let him go - perhaps the risk at this moment is not so very great. But not again, MacLeod. We are at war with those who would seek to put everyone here back into their proper place, as they would see it. Kronos is merely one of the worst, not the only threat."

"Yes, Methos, I said meekly, and again I realised how lost we would be without his wisdom. Things could have gone so very differently today.

It was a point he was at pains to make when we gathered in my room. "We will not have so easy a victory again," he warned. "Not against Kalas, and probably not against the other lords, since word will spread about our defences and our weaknesses. I would wager money - but not my life - that Kalas and his ilk will not bother to lay siege to us. We are too distant from his own lands, and not that valuable compared to other keeps about the place. But we are an affront to the natural order, and that will give an impulse to their attacks."

"What can we do that we have not already?" Samson asked.

"Just more of the same. Duncan, we need more bows, and especially, more arrows. I will need to make more leather armour, and Samson, you and Richard must enforce practice with sword and bow. The only other thing we might consider is making gunpowder. It can be a very frightening thing to face for a common soldier, and may deter any but very persistent attackers. The key is vigilance. Dawson, your people have done very well, I commend them, but we are at a dangerous point - they may grow overconfident just at the time when we face the greatest risk. Shorten the shifts, increase the numbers of guards, and make sure each and everyone can fire a bow accurately."

He turned to me again. "Duncan, summer is approaching, and by its end, Kronos will be returning. Those huts must be built, and stocked, and those who we want moved out there must be gone by the end of August. Each person must be self-sufficient, able to protect themselves, know how to prepare and find food, how to survive."

"Preparations are in hand, Methos."

He seemed to realise that he had taken charge, and sat down abruptly. "I am sorry - I only suggest these things, Duncan."

"For what do you apologise, man? We owe you our lives today, you and those women you trained so well. I am a babe in the woods in these matters."

"Aye, Methos," Samson added. "Hiding your light under a bushel does well in the hall, but do not treat us as fools."

"I do not - I do not mean to. I do not have all the answers - what if I am wrong?" He sat down, and his eyes become shuttered.

"Methos," Dawson said quietly. "We could not be in better hands between you and Duncan. Yes, things may go wrong, but that will not be your fault."

"People will be just as dead, no matter whose fault it is," he said bitterly.

"Master Methos," Maya piped up, "we all do what we can. Be easy, and have a little faith, in us if not yourself."

Timidly, she took his hand, and he forced a smile on his face. "I am sorry, Maya. I get like this after a battle. If you want nerves of steel, you'd be better with Lord Kronos."

"No, thank you," she said tartly. "You have better table manners for a start." That made him laugh.

 

* * *

He was right, of course. It was just the beginning. Kalas was back within the week, with his own archers, and driving him away this time meant killing his men, as well as his horses. Kalas took an arrow in the chest, which amused Methos unreasonably. I asked him why.

"Because, my dear Duncan, unless Kalas has told his people of his secret, I fear he may have to disappear for a few years. I think we may have just solved that problem."

His Valkyries were not so sanguine - as the bodies were laid out and stripped, I saw one woman turn away to vomit, although she was at her sword practice as usual the following day.

Other attacks came over the following months, although we were never taken by surprise thanks to the excellent watch we kept. Peter took a crossbow bolt through the shoulder from his own carelessness in not wearing his armour, and we were seriously concerned for his life. Only Maya's care brought him through. Another woman was not so lucky - she was shot through the eye and died instantly. Methos stood over her body a long time in silence, and buried her with his own hands.

His efforts on our behalf, already frenzied, increased even more after that. As well as the smithing, he began to make the gunpowder, and we soon learned to keep clear from the stone building where he carried out his experiments, since explosions were a daily occurrence. I had to drag him away from his projects to eat, and finally I insisted that he share my room, purely so I could ensure he was sleeping at night and bathing occasionally. The only thing that seemed to distract him from his busy thoughts was making love to the man, a chore I gladly took on.

I redoubled my bow making efforts, and soon everyone in the castle, all but our little Andrew, had a bow of their own - even the small children, who could shoot as well as any. Those who could pull the strongest weight were given metal tipped arrows - they were more expensive on our time and resources to make, and those who carried them were also our best shots. The bow were not to be our only defence - Methos began to work on a curious device, calling on Alison for assistance, since she had become an able hand at wood working. As it took shape, I realised it was a miniature trebuchet.

"We fire our bombs over the wall into the thick of the invading force, you see," as he demonstrated. "If we are lucky, the thing does not blow up before it clears the walls."

He grinned like a lunatic, and I half believed he wanted that to happen. "Just stay well clear of me when you first use it, Methos. I have no desire to find out if Immortals can heal from being blown asunder."

"They cannot. Trust me on this, Highlander."

"Then take care to make a bomb with yon Kronos' name on it, man."

Kronos, in fact, was far from our minds, so busy were we. The summer was a hot and dry one, and the long evenings were filled with preparations. There was time for other things too - a band of minstrels paid us a visit, an occasion of great merriment. Samson and Alison later declared their betrothal, to no one's surprise, and that was the excuse for a feast. I was surprised, looking back, at just how much laughter and fun we had those evenings - for people so long out of the habit of it, making merry seemed to come easily to them.

I was happy because my love was close, and I refused to dwell on what would happen in the autumn - or after. Our conversations were held in snatches, at meals, or in bed before he fell asleep, worn out from work or my attentions. We were rarely alone apart from that - any trips to the forest were made in parties of five or more, and neither of us could walk though any part of the castle without being claimed to deal with this or that.

It was hard, looking at Methos in intimate conversation with one of the women, or bouncing little Andrew on his knee as he talked to Bess, to recall that he was one of the Horsemen himself, and had been part of the regime of oppression, however reluctantly. It seemed the others had forgiven, if not forgotten, the role he played, and for now, he was simply one of their comrades, a valued friend and advisor. It made me glad to see it.

He was my right arm, and by my side in all things, something I needed and accepted. But as the chosen leader, some things fell to me that I would rather passed me by. I had been lulled into a false sense of security by the fact that disagreements amongst our people were rare, perhaps because they were busy, and had such common purpose. We had had no trouble with fights at all, the need for outside discipline was slight and, like a fool, I congratulated myself on the fact our people seemed to manage themselves. Like a fool, I was destined for a sharp lesson in the realities of leadership.

As the summer drew to a close, and we were beginning to prepare to move many of our people out of the keep, I was in my room when there was a knock at the door. It was Joseph. By the look on his face, I knew he was not calling in to be sociable. "What's wrong, Dawson?"

He did not sit. "Duncan, we have a thief among us."

I was more than a little surprised after all this time for this to come to light. "Do you know who?" He nodded, then opened the door again.

I was horrified to see Hetty come in, her eyes downcast. I walked over to her, and lifted her chin. "Is this true?" I could scarcely credit it, but she nodded. "Why?"

"I...." She stopped with her mouth hanging open.

"Go on, woman," Dawson said, not unkindly.

"I... I was afraid. I... wanted to be sure I had enough." Her voice barely rose above a whisper.

I looked at Dawson over her head. He cleared his throat. "You know what we said about thieves, Duncan. We cannot have such among us."

"You heard Dawson, lass. Any one who steals from the whole must be cast out. We cannot tolerate anyone who robs the rest."

She began to shake. She was but a child, and all I felt for her was profound sympathy. I had no desire to punish her, or banish her - I wanted to hold her and assure her she was safe. But Dawson was watching me, and I knew that if I fell at this hurdle, I was unfit to lead. "I don't want to go, Master Duncan," she whispered. "I don't know how to live out there. Please."

I looked at Dawson again. "Are you sure?" I mouthed. He nodded, clearly as unhappy as I was.

"Hetty, I am sorry. Because it's you, and because I do not believe you are truly evil, I will give you a choice. You can go, without supplies or money, or you can stay and bear twenty lashes. If you do that, all will be forgiven. But if you steal again, I will throw you out myself."

"Twenty?"

She shook harder, and I tried not to let her see how her tears moved me. "Yes, maid. If you were a man, it would be more. If you were a man, I don't think I'd give you a choice - I'd whip you and throw you out. Now, take yourself off. If you're still here after the evening meal, you can tell me then what you choose."

She nodded and slid out. Dawson shut the door. "What did she steal?" I asked.

"Food, some money, a knife - a bolt of new cloth. Nothing much, but if everyone did it...."

"But it's her's anyway - we do not own these people." I was arguing against myself as well as him.

"Duncan, you know full well why Methos made that the single thing we could not tolerate, above all else. But if you cannot do it, I will flog her."

"Nay, Joseph. It is my judgement, I will carry it out."

"Have you ever beaten a woman, Duncan?" he said gently. I shook my head. "Are you sure you can?"

"Yes, I'm sure. But maybe she'll leave," I said hopefully.

"No, she won't, she's too afraid. That's why she stole."

"And we beat people for being afraid - I am worse than Kronos," I said bitterly.

"No, Duncan, you are being foolish again. You beat people to teach them and the others a lesson. We cannot allow people to take what they want, when they want. We have not enough for that, and if they go to the forest, that will be even more the case."

"I'd like to be alone now, Dawson. Let us see what she decides."

In my heart, I knew what she would do. I felt sick - I had given her no real choice at all, in my pretence at a kind of mercy.

He nodded and left. I turned back to my reckonings, but I did not see them - all I could see was Hetty's pale, terrified face. I could not - I could not hit a woman. Never could. But if I did not, who would?

I was lost in my thoughts when there was another knock at the door. I was not entirely surprised that it was Methos. He came and sat by my desk. "You have a problem, I hear."

"It's no problem," I said roughly. "We caught a thief, and I am going to deal with it."

"Let Dawson do it - or me, Duncan."

"Yes, you could do it, I'm sure. You have doubtless beaten many people - you whipped me, remember?"

I was angry at myself, but it came out as spite against him. He refused to rise to the bait.

"Yes, I did. I could hardly forget, Duncan. I don't think I forgot anyone I hurt. And neither will you, that is my point." He took my hand and squeezed it, hard. "Duncan, you don't have to do this - you offered her a choice that she is not entitled to. Make her leave, and let that be an end to it."

"She's a child, Methos! A scared slip of a girl, trying to protect herself against the likes of you and me in the only way she can. Who am I to condemn her for it?"

"You are not, Highlander. We all are - all of us agreed. It is as much my concern, my fault, as yours, and I say let her leave and be done with it."

"She'll die."

"She probably will but she knew that when she stole. She is not a child, she is twenty three...."

"A child," I said heavily. "A child who has never been free, never known happiness, never seen or done anything that another did not force her to do."

He did not respond. He sat and looked at me with those old, wise eyes until I could not stand it. "Methos, leave me alone."

He squeezed my hand again. "Duncan, think about it. I can do this - there is blood enough on my hands, do not let yours be stained without need."

"Please, Methos, leave me be."

"Then let me give you some advice. Make it fair, and make it fast. That is the only merciful way to do it."

He rose and left, and I was alone again to think of his words. It would be so easy to do as he suggested - to throw the woman out and turn our backs on her. So easy to let Methos carry out what I had ordered. So easy - and so wrong. I had never shirked my duty before, and Duncan MacLeod was not going to start now. But between now and the evening meal, I had find the courage to do something I hoped I would never have to do.

The food before me could have been sawdust and glue for all the taste or attention I gave it. Methos sat silently next to me, and Dawson did the same on the other side. I saw Hetty sitting at the other table, not touching her meal, looking even paler than she had that afternoon. The plates were cleared and when I saw her rise, I prayed desperately that she would turn and walk out. But instead, she walked over to me and knelt before me.

"I want to stay, Master Duncan. I will accept your punishment."

I had to admire her courage - she was terrified but she spoke in a strong voice, for all to hear if they wanted.

"Very well. " I was proud, in a way, that my voice did not shake, and when I raised it to address the assembly, it sounded calmer than I felt. "Good people, the woman Hetty has confessed to stealing. I offered her a choice - leave, or be flogged so that she can stay. She chooses to stay. But mark it, all of you - I will not offer another thief such a choice. "

I signalled to Dawson, and he took her unresisting arm to lead her outside to the post. I did not invite people to watch, but none the less, many followed us out.

Once in the yard, I told her to strip, and soon she was shivering in her thin shift. Dawson bound her hands to the post, and I took the belt I planned to use - I had already decided a whip was too harsh and would leave her half-dead. "Are you ready, Hetty?"

"Ye...yes, Master Duncan."

"And you know why this is being done?"

"Yes. I stole."

I seized her tunic and tore it from the neck, baring her back. That almost stopped me there and then - she was skin and bones, pale as a baby. I heard Methos' words - "Make it fair, and make it fast" - and I struck without warning. Her scream made me freeze, unable to make the second stroke. I searched frantically for Methos' face and found it in the crowd. 'Hurry,' he mouthed. I struck again, and forced myself to continue without pause. I lost count, and only Dawson saying loudly, "That is twenty," brought me back to myself. I stood with head bowed, strap in hand, and watched the woman being freed, moaning softly. Methos' voice - "I'll take her to her room. Maya, fetch that salve we made."

And then I was alone again. I fell to my knees and retched, only bile coming up from my empty stomach, but vomiting could not expunge the disgust I felt at myself for inflicting such brutality. I do not know how long I knelt, staring at the post where so recently a broken woman stood, but Richard startled me when he came to find me. "Duncan, are you all right?"

I stood slowly, with his help, my legs feeling shaky. He had a torch in his hand, and I made him give it to me. I held it at the post until the old, seasoned wood began to catch.

"Richard, stay here and make sure it burns down, then sweep up the ashes. I want no trace of this thing left. There will be no more floggings in this castle. Never again."

I turned on my heel and left him to it.

Methos found me, crouched on the floor of my bedroom, the belt held tightly in my hand. I looked at him with blurry eyes. "She is fine, Duncan," he said, although I had not asked. "Bruised and sorry for herself, but she will live. Maya is seeing to her."

I held the belt up to him. "Please, Methos," I asked in a hoarse voice. My mouth was dry as dust.

"Please what, Duncan? Take the belt?" He was genuinely confused.

"Hit me." I prayed he would understand, and he did. He took the belt, and hauled me up, dragging me over to the bed. He did not ask if I was sure, or what I wanted - he seemed to know. He put my hands on the bedposts, so I was outstretched.

He turned my head and looked into my eyes. "I will stop it when you drop your hands. Do you understand?" I nodded. He tore my shirt off my back, and gagged me with it, and scarcely had he done so, then he swung. It hurt, but it was not enough. He gave me more. Harder, I prayed, and he seemed to know what I needed. Hard enough so I could not hear that child's screams any more, that I could not feel the sting in my hand as I made contact with her flesh.

He hit me over and over, until my vision distorted and I could not make a sound even through the gag. It went on for a long time, but I did not - could not - release my hands. It was not enough - it could never be enough. Finally he stopped although I had not signalled him. I wanted to beg him to continue, but he was at my ear.

"Let go, Duncan," he said quietly. "Let it go."

My hands could not move - I could not move. He untied my gag, and then I felt him prying at my fingers, forcing me to release the posts. As he freed me, I collapsed, shivering at his feet. He knelt beside me, and held me, rocking me gently. "Let it go, Duncan," he murmured. "You did well, now you must let it go and rest."

I fell asleep like that, in his arms. Later, he woke me to urge me to climb onto the bed and under the covers, where he held me again.

"I am not fit to lead these people," I mumbled.

"Nonsense, heart. To lead is never easy. You are a good man withal."

"She will hate me - they will all hate me. I should have let her go."

He wiped the tears falling down my cheeks gently away. "She said she was sorry to have made you do it, Duncan. She understands and forgives you. Now forgive yourself, and sleep, Highlander."

He stroked my face over and over, and held me close until I fell asleep, exhausted.

I found him watching me when I woke, and he kissed me gently. I found his hand and squeezed it. "I am sorry, Methos. Thank you for doing what you did."

"Whatever you need, Duncan," he said quietly. "But I pray you, do not ask me to hit you again. I would rather be beaten myself, a hundred times more severely." He stepped out of the bed.

"Where are you going?" I asked, slightly alarmed.

"To get your breakfast, _mo cridhe_."

"You do not need to..."

"Hush. I am returning the favour." And with that cryptic remark he left.

I had worked it out by the time he returned, and sat by the bed. "You did not want to face people that morning?" I guessed.

He nodded. "And you need time to yourself today, lad. Now eat, and do not brood on what you cannot change."

It seemed that incident marked the end of our summer, and our relative complacency. Hetty healed, and I pushed my guilt down deep inside. Only Methos really knew how I felt, and we did not have the luxury pf time to allow me to wallow in my feelings. The weather turned cool just a week later, and it was time for our household to divide. It was an anxious time for all - we did not want to split apart, because it reduced both groups' protection, but neither did we want vulnerable people like Elspeth or Bess and her baby to be caught inside the castle when the Horsemen returned.

I argued bitterly with Methos over who should stay to fight Kronos, not wanting any women to be left inside. He argued back that I was letting chivalry get in the way of my good sense - "just as it had over Hetty," he reminded me sharply. His Valkyries were undoubtedly our most effective defence, but I balked over the idea of relying on women to defeat Kronos. In the end we compromised - half stayed, half went with the people going to the woods. To be fair to me, I was just as concerned about the protection of the ones leaving, and although they had Samson and Richard with them, and all could fire a bow, there was no guarantee that they would not have to defend a second front against the Horsemen.

We rigged up a watchtower in one of the tallest trees in the forest, giving the castle an early warning system, and a set of flags could convey simple messages. In every respect, both communities had to be self-sufficient. Our livestock and the bulk of our stores were in the forest - we had planned food for just over a month for the fifteen of us who would wait for Kronos. If we had to wait longer, then we would need to purchase stores. As it was, our diet was going to be monotonous, if plentiful, since it consisted of preserved meat and vegetables. All the best and freshest food had gone with the larger group.

Our plan was to present as normal a front to the Horsemen as we could, then to pin them down in an ambush in the courtyard. Kronos had taken thirty men with him, and Methos thought he would return with fewer, since he never recruited during the raids and there would inevitably be losses to death and injury. It still meant we were outnumbered nearly two to one.

Once our farewells were said, tension rose quickly and remained high in the castle. Seven women and eight men remained. Dawson had stayed behind, although I had argued both for his sake and the sake of those going that he was needed in the forest. He insisted he wanted to be in at the death of the monsters, and I could not deny him that. Maya had gone to act as the physician for our forest dwellers, and Richard had gone because his attention would be distracted while his love was away. Peter went also, although I wished he could have stayed - his wound was a long time healing, and reluctantly we judged he was more a burden than an asset to us.

We all of us lived in the apartments formerly used by Cassandra, and then by the horsemen and their soldiers. At any one time, half of us were on watch, the others sleeping or eating, or practicing with the sword or bow and arrow There were no other duties than to keep watch, keep weapons at the ready, and keep our minds and bodies together. Methos fairly vibrated with tension the whole time, and as time wore on, his sleep became more and more disturbed.

"Do you fear that we will not kill Kronos, _mo cridhe_?" I asked him one night, holding him close in an unsuccessful attempt to help him get back to sleep. "Or do you fear that we will?"

"I do not know, Duncan. I hid from him for a thousand years. Part of me tells me we cannot possibly defeat him. I am trying to silence that part of me."

We sorely missed our comrades, and the light, easy atmosphere of the evening hall. Now we could not relax our guard for a moment, since Kronos could appear at any time, day or night. In the end, it was three weeks into the autumn when the yellow flag was spotted at the watchtower. That meant Kronos' party was a mere four miles distant, and we hastened into position. The gate was opened, the portcullis raised. Dawson and two other men dressed in the old armour of the guards who had been left by Kronos - our other people were either on the wall, or hiding out of sight. I was on the wall, by the portcullis chain, ready to lower it the second all of the Horsemen were inside. Methos waited in the courtyard to 'greet' his brothers. We watched the troupe arrive. I counted twenty-five men in all, including the three horsemen - more than I hoped, fewer than there could have been.

I was dismayed when Kronos called a halt a little way out of the castle, just beyond the gate. "Greetings, Methos!" he shouted.

"Welcome back, brother. Won't you come in?"

We had dressed Methos in the high collared, concealing shirt he had been wearing when I returned, and it seemed to a casual observer that he still wore the loathsome iron shirt Caspian had inflicted on him. I was sure Kronos would not be able to tell he was not, but something was amiss.

"In a moment, brother. I've brought you a gift." He motioned a packhorse to be lead forward, with a bundle tied on the saddle.

"You are most kind, brother. What have you brought me?"

"Well, you see, we stopped in the town last night, for food and ale. And there was a remarkably comely wench serving there. Silas was most taken with her, were you not, brother?" Silas grinned. "I thought she might be familiar. She knew all about you and the castle."

He cut the ropes holding the bundle on the horse beside him, and pushed it to the ground. To my horror, I realised it was a body - Mary, the slave who had stabbed Methos. I was already feverishly releasing the portcullis chains as he said, "She was most unkind about you, brother. And very informative."

"Now, Duncan!" Methos cried. I lowered the portcullis and the gates were slammed shut. I saw Kronos fall back - he was grinning.

"Not very friendly, Methos. What will you do now, brother? You're caught like a rat in a trap."

I scrambled down the ladder and went to where Methos stood. He had not moved a muscle. "Highlander, we have a problem." Then he motioned to me and those not on the walls to follow him inside.

Once in the hall, he took charge. "People, Kronos has evaded our trap, and now we have to decide what we will do. If we do nothing, he will wait until he starves us out, but there is little he can do to force us out - our water supply is secure, and there are too few of his people to ram the gates, or undermine the walls. If we surrender, we will be killed, and not quickly either."

"So you are saying we can die now, or die later, but we all die?" Dawson said, speaking for all.

"Not quite, although I cannot promise you that death will not be the final outcome whatever we try. We can attempt to escape..."

"Kronos was sending men around the walls as I came down," I said.

"Yes, he would, so going over the walls is not an option. Going under the wall may be."

"You're crazed," one of his women said. "We would have to tunnel two or three hundred yards out to avoid his men seeing us."

"Yes, you're correct. We could wait and try to pick his men off - they have just been raiding, and looking forward to a luxurious winter lodging with obedient slaves and plentiful food. Maintaining a siege will not be to the taste of the soldiers - we could hope that discipline will break down so that some leave, and that we can kill a few. If we remove enough, we might be able to fight our way out. It is a slim hope, I have to say."

"So what do you advise?" I asked him.

He shook his head. "No, Duncan, in this, I must be silent. I know that Kronos is unlikely to kill me, whatever we do. This is a decision for you, and you alone. I am going up to assess what is happening."

The enormity of our situation was too great for simple expressions of rage or fear, and for a long time, no one spoke.

"I know one thing for certain," Dawson said finally. "I would rather ask Methos to cut my head off now than to fall into Kronos' hands." The group was in agreement with that sentiment at least.

"Kronos only wants Methos, when you get right down to it," a lad called Jason, said, "so if he gives himself up, we have a chance at going free. You heard him - Kronos will not kill him."

Though he spoke the simple truth, I was angry. "You want to ask a man who has worked by your side for months, boy, to put himself back in the hands of that creature? You will have to, for I will not. Not now, not ever. There are other options. I do not want to hear of that one again."

I stared at Jason fiercely, and he mumbled an apology. It was unfair of me to use my position thus, but I was terrified that Methos might actually accept such a proposition - and more than anything, I wanted him never to go back to the Horsemen, whatever reason he might have for doing so.

"He suggested a tunnel - why not dig and fight? Can we do both?" Dawson asked, ever the peacemaker.

That suggestion was more enthusiastically received, and it was quickly decided that we nine agreed on that. If the others did, then we would proceed, although the feasibility of a tunnel needed to be worked out. If it would take longer to dig than we had supplies, we had gained nothing. I went in search of my lover, who was peering out of a murder hole in one of the turrets. He pointed out Kronos' position. "He's out of bow range, for now. He's posted men at two hundred yard intervals around the castle- that leaves him fifteen to guard the gate. Looks as if he's settling in for the long haul." He turned to face me. "Have you come up with a plan?"

"They want to try the tunnel, and also see if we can whittle the opposition down."

He nodded. "That's exactly what I would do. No one wanted me to give myself up then?" My silence answered him. "Come now, Duncan. You cannot blame people for thinking that. After all, the horsemen are only here because of me."

"And they are only alive and free because of you too, Methos!"

"Because of you, you mean, Highlander. You came back, and forced my hand. I was going to do nothing."

"Maybe so, but you killed the guards, you planned our defences, without you we would be dead. I will not hear more of you leaving."

"As you wish, Duncan," he murmured. "Kronos would never give up, anyway."

"So, the tunnel. Can it be dug?"

"As it happens, I've given the matter some thought. I have some plans if you'd like to see them. "

We went up to our room, and he showed me what he had drawn up some time ago, as a contingency should Kronos trap our people inside the castle. "I was thinking we would have far more hands to help us dig, but the positioning is the same."

He showed me how he thought a tunnel under the rear wall, facing the woods, might work. We would have to dig down, then along, to get under the massive foundations of the castle walls.

"How long?" I asked.

"Ah, that's the rub, Duncan. At least a month. 'Tis a pity we did not start it before." But then we did not know... regrets were pointless.

"We have only two weeks worth of supplies left."

"Half rations then, but it will be hard work on little food."

"Can it be done?"

"Possibly. At least we have plenty of water. We need to begin at once, but we also need to keep watch, and take any opportunity to pick his men off. Is everyone in agreement? There is no point in this if some do not wish to do it."

"I will ask the guards. You'd best assume we will start, and get the tools together."

"Duncan, it's not so simple - we will need timber to shore up the tunnel, else it will collapse."

"Tell what you need, old man - I will get it."

I found the women on guard on the wall readily agreed to our plan - the idea of surrender or a quick death was equally repugnant to them - so we could begin. We started a hole as close to the rear wall as we could. Four people were left on guard, four were told to rest, three were sent to strip the stables and other buildings of any timber we could use for shoring the tunnel up, and the rest worked on the hole. It was only practical for one person to dig - the rest hauled out the dirt, and passed in baulks of wood. It was tiring work for all concerned - Methos said we should spread the soil about the courtyard as much as we could, so that when and if Kronos got in, it was not immediately obvious that there was a tunnel out. Methos planned that we should distract Kronos as long as possible from what we had done, so that those leaving by the tunnel could have the longest possible time to make it to the woods. To that end, he said he would hold off on using the gunpowder and the two trebuchets he had made until we were done - Kronos was, at present, too far away for us to hit his people with the bombs.

We dug down fifteen feet before nightfall, and Methos suggested we stop then and plan the next stages. Our food supply was an urgent problem. We decided that our women, and Dawson, should remain on guard duty, and be on one-third rations, since they were only required to stand still all day. The rest were on two thirds - privately, Methos and I decided between us we would cut down to one third as well, since we would recover better from fasting than the mortals. Once the tunnel began to travel horizontally, we would all need to be in the hole the entire time we were digging, to remove dirt and carry out the timber work. Although I thought in theory we could work twenty-four hours a day, reluctantly, we decided that it was impossible - it would simply be too exhausting. We were aiming for a stand of trees two hundred and fifty yards from the wall, which would allow us to emerge unseen by the guards patrolling closer in.

It was very late when we finally went to bed, with the prospect of an early rise. I found Methos sitting on our bed, his knees under his chin. I sat next to him. "What's wrong, _mo leannan_?"

"This, Duncan. This situation - it's my fault, I should have planned for this." It had been a very long, very tense day, and he was strung tight like a wire.

"None of us expected this - how could we know they would meet up with Mary like that? It is just pure bad fortune."

"Poor silly girl - she probably thought they would spare her if she told them everything," he said with a grimace.

"What did you tell me not to do? Brood over things I could not change? Take your own advice, man. What's done is done, and we have to face this new challenge."

He let me push him down, and hold him close, but his sleep was poor, wracked by nightmares, which meant we were both badly rested in the morning. He was watching me as I woke up after a mere hour-long rest after his last dream. "I'm sorry, Duncan. Perhaps I should sleep in another room."

"Over my dead and bleeding body, Methos. You are not going to endure this alone. I am Immortal - a bad night's sleep won't kill me." I kissed him, and noted that a tremor of tension still shook his body.

We took the first turns at digging, since our mortal comrades were stiff and sore from the unaccustomed work the day before, and needed time to stretch. Both being tall, it was most tiresome bending and crouching to dig, but it was not easy on anyone. As I dug, Methos began to work on a contraption of pulleys and leather buckets to convey the dirt to the surface, and which meant less back and forth travel for us. That certainly helped, but once we began the horizontal digging, we found the foundations were built on a very dense soil, not rock, but damn hard.

"Should we try going lower?" I asked.

He shook his head. "We do not know how far it goes down, and we have not got the time to explore. We can dig through that soil level - just - so I think we just have to get on."

We were lucky to dig three yards a day while we were at that level, and we had fifty to go before we cleared the foundations. Even with Methos' clever little contrivance, we were still forced to sit in the tunnel for fifteen hours a day, passing dirt back and bringing timber forward. The only good thing about that soil level was that it was very stable - we had no cave-ins the entire distance, for which I was very grateful.

We were all in good physical condition when we had started - something we could thank Methos for, since he had made us all eat well and exercise while we had the liberty to do so - but the short rations began to bite on those of us who were doing the digging within a week or so, and on the archers shortly after. Dawson and I used every trick we knew of to make the food seem to go further - thinning out the stews and porridge as much as we dared, encouraging people to drink water at all times - but there was no getting over the fact that the work involved required more nourishment than we were taking in. People stopped talking over the meals, and when not on duty, slept. Methos and I tried to spare our mortal workers the worst of the tunnel work, being the ones positioned at the deepest part where the air was fetid and hot, but we watched the others begin to waste away. When Jason actually fainted in the tunnel, we were forced to reassess our strategy. We reduced the number of people involved in the tunnelling, and increased their rations. The guards' rations were reduced, but so were their shift lengths. We two Immortals carried on as before.

After three weeks, Methos was worried. "We are only just over half way there, Duncan. We have to work harder or we will never do it."

"Perhaps we won't have to - Gertrude took out another one today. Kronos is down to fifteen, and Dawson swears he heard arguing in their camp last night."

"Yes, that's all well and good, Highlander, but we have ten days food left at the absolute maximum. We have to get everyone out by then."

"Look, can we shorten the tunnel - fall short of those trees? If you and I can distract the others at the front of the castle long enough, our people can get away. That will save us at least fifty yards"

He looked thoughtful. "It's not ideal, but yes. All right. We'll start the elevation now."

By shortening the tunnel, we could finish in a week. We still had those besieging us to contend with, although I had to put all my own energy into the tunnel. Our archers carried a heavy burden also, but we were lucky in that none were injured, until the day when Dawson was felled by a lucky shot tearing through his neck. It was some consolation that the man who shot him died the next moment from an arrow fired from our side, but we had to stop tunnelling to get Joseph down from the wall.

I clamped my hand over the hole pulsing blood in his neck, while Methos ran for the bandages and dressings he had prepared, but thankfully had not needed until now. Dawson would have bled to death but for Methos' quick care, and a clever trick with needle and catgut, which closed the ragged wound. We carried the old man to his bed, where Methos nursed him all that day, and the next. We sacrificed valuable rations to help Joseph stay alive, something no one begrudged, but there was no doubt that it ate into our resources and our time. Methos stayed with the man all day, and slept in his room - or so he said - but when I came in the second morning to fetch him, he was gone.

"How are you, Joseph?" I asked. The mortal looked very pale, and in pain.

"I am fine, Duncan. Lucky to be alive."

"That you are. Where is Methos?"

He wrinkled his brow. "I don't know. He gave me water in the middle of the night, I remember that. I was asleep, Duncan."

Puzzled, I went in search of Methos, and found him down the tunnel, digging on his own. "Get up here, old man!" I yelled.

It was ten minutes before he climbed out of the hole, and was replaced by Jason, come to begin work for the day. I hauled my lover none too gently off the ladder and onto the solid earth. "What in God's name are you doing down there, Methos?"

I'd had brought him upright too quickly. He swayed, and I caught him just as he crumpled to the ground. I laid him flat and waited for him to come to his senses, cursing him loudly in as many languages as I could recall. He opened dazed hazel eyes.

"Sorry," he murmured.

"You will be, you silly old bugger. Have you had any sleep these last two days?"

"I've been sitting down all day. We're not digging fast enough," he said, struggling to sit. "I got two more yards dug just on my own tonight."

"And now you are useless for the rest of the day." I helped him stand, but as he was still wobbly, I held him around the waist and got him back to Joseph's room. "Dawson, if he makes a move to the door, yell. Wait here, old man."

I fetched some of the thin soup we had on the stove all the time, and made him eat, before making him climb onto the bed next to Joseph. "Now sleep, and don't get up until I come back. That's an order, Methos."

He narrowed his eyes and got ready to blast me for my insolence. "You..."

"Shut up." His mouth snapped shut. "That's better. You cannot save us single-handed, man. If you want to be useful, you put that busy mind of yours to what we will do in three days' time when we are about to break through, which we will."

"Yes, Master Duncan," he said meekly.

I waited until he was asleep, then handed Dawson my dagger. "If he moves, kill him. Just make sure he stays out one way or another today."

"Yes, Master Duncan," Dawson said with a grin. I was too annoyed to see the humour of the situation.

I was not surprised to find that my dagger had found its home, Methos tumbled in a heap on the floor next to the bed. I sat heavily on Dawson's bedside, exhausted from a hard day in the tunnel. "Are we close, Duncan?" Joseph asked.

"We are, and if I was not so angry at his lordship here, I would thank him." I lifted one of Methos' thin wrists. "There is nothing left of him."

"He blames himself, you know. For the whole bloody mess."

"I know. He shouldn't. If anyone is to blame, it is the lady Cassandra - or Kronos. Still, if we had known things would come to this pass, we could have left the castle a month ago ourselves."

"Shame that you were not a soothsayer back then, Duncan," Dawson said sourly. "Am I to sleep with a corpse all night?"

"No. I'll pull it out." Methos revived not longer after, and both Dawson and myself earned a baleful look as he coughed and spluttered his way back into life.

"That was not necessary, MacLeod. I am old enough to judge my limits."

"And so am I, man. But thank you for the extra yards - we made twenty five feet today."

He was pleased. "Well done, Highlander." He calculated. "Two more days?"

"Aye, less if it goes well tomorrow. So how do we evade the watchers?"

"Well, you'll have to give me some more time to think - I've been dead all day." He shot another hurt look at Dawson, then stood up and felt the sick man's pulse, checked his brow, and the dressing, which he removed. "You're doing well, old friend. Well enough to leave, at least."

Dawson touched his wound lightly and winced. "It's still sore as Hades."

"Well, next time someone fires an arrow at you - duck."

Methos collapsed into a chair - he looked little better rested, for death does not truly replace sleep. "I do have some ideas - can we eat and talk? We can increase the rations now - no need to keep them."

Our supper was still only a piece of dried fruit, more soup and a flat bread Methos had taught us to cook. I could have eaten three times the amount and still been hungry.

"Not many days, now, Duncan - you can kill yourself a fine buck and we will all feast," Methos soothed.

"Tell me of your plans," I said, ignoring my stomach's demands.

"Four of us will need to stay in the castle until the last moment - two to fire the trebuchet into the mass of soldiers at the front, one to fire it towards the rear to force our friends to move, and the fourth to kill them with a bow shot once they are forced back into range. The second the rear guards are removed, we signal our people to leave the tunnel, and the other three leave thereafter."

"Sounds sensible," Dawson said.

"Won't Kronos be suspicious if there are no bowmen on the walls?"

"Ah, that is the other reason for people to remain. I suggest we fire this place behind us - one, it will delay Kronos finding out who is gone and where, and second, it denies him a stronghold. His soldiers will not stay to rebuild a ruin, and none of the Horsemen know the first thing about construction. We will set up a fireworks show - with any luck, he'll think it's my Quickening, and leave." He gave a slight chuckle - he did not really believe that Kronos would fall for this.

"Have we enough gunpowder and fuel?"

"Barely. There is some old hay, and the timbers of the house are very dry. You and I should start setting it up, if you can be spared from the digging."

I nodded. "I think so."

He rubbed his hands together. "Well, let's start."

I held up a weary hand. "Methos, please - I'm worn out."

Even though Dawson was watching us, he touched my face gently. "I am sorry. I forgot. You rest, stay with Joseph. I can start assembling things. Tomorrow night, I will tell people what is happening.

The extra food, and knowing we were nearing our goal, spurred our fellows onto greater efforts, and by sunset the following day, the word came that we had reached our goal. A hole the size of a fist had been made through the turf on the far side of the wall, one that could easily be mistaken for a rabbit hole. We would break it more open just as we left. For the first time since Kronos had trapped us in the castle, there was real jubilation and excitement in the hall. We shared out the remaining food, keeping only a little back for the morrow, and had full bellies for the first time in weeks. Methos explained his plan.

"We should take all our weapons, and anything of use which can be easily carried - warm clothing especially. When you leave the tunnel, scatter - do not lead Kronos' men straight to our friends."

It should have been a night for rejoicing, but there was no time - we still had to get the trebuchets up on the walls, mine the place, and collect our supplies. A woman, Vera, and Jason volunteered to man the front wall. We also had to work out a signal system to let those in the tunnel know the path was clear - we would have to keep our voices down lest we told Kronos what we were doing. We rigged up a string on a rope which we could tug - and the last person down the tunnel would pull on that rope and bring a pile of stones and earth down over the hole. It was midnight before we had that little device in place. Methos and I staggered to our beds, shattered and too tired barely even to speak. I was too tired even to think about the fact that by dawn, we would be on our way out of this castle forever.

"We owe you everything," I murmured in Methos' ear, already half asleep.

"Do not invite bad luck by speaking too soon, heart."

Just four hours later, we were roused, and sent to our stations. Methos and I would be manning the rear wall, and I had the responsibility of making sure the guards were killed. Dawson was the second man down the hole, since he would need assistance fore and aft. He shook Methos' hand before he went down. "Methos, I do not know what you truly are, but I for one am grateful you came, and that you stayed."

"It has been an honour to know you too, sirrah."

I took their hands in mine - I did not care for the eulogistic sound of their words. "Enough, men. You will see each other again soon enough. Go on, Joseph, and mind your neck."

When the eleven people were safely in the hole, they signalled that they had reached the end of the tunnel and were waiting. I unlooped the string and trailed it up to where Methos waited. We loaded the trebuchet, and he touched the torch to the fuse.

"Now," he whispered fiercely. I released the catch - the bomb fell a few yards ahead of the patrolling guard, and exploded, making the man's horses rear up and throw him off. He scrambled off and ran our way - I took aim and shot him through the eye. Methos did not stop to congratulate me on my success - he had the second bomb already loaded. At the front of the castle, Vera and Jason had begun their own attack.

My first arrow did not kill the second guard outright, but the next one did. "Signal them, Duncan!" Methos said. I tugged three times hard on the string, and got two tugs back. As we watched, the first man's head emerged from the hole.

"Hurry, Duncan - we need to fire the other fuses."

Methos threw the two remaining bombs he had on the wall towards the stables, where they brought half the building down. I lit my own torch, and climbing down the ladder, ran through the keep, setting the bundles of hay alight we had placed for the purpose. Methos ran to the front of the castle and bid Jason and Vera to come down. They pelted for the tunnel and dived in. Around us, the old buildings were starting to be well alight, and here and there, explosions erupted, taking the roofs off several structures. The fire was racing faster than we had planned, and we were in danger of being set alight ourselves. Around us, bone-dry timbers caught and exploded, the very stones of the buildings seeming to burn. The dense smoke made it hard to see, and only his Immortal Presence allowed me to catch Methos up near the tunnel entrance.

"In you get, Duncan," he coughed, pointing at the tunnel. He was crouched, tying the rope to the baulk of wood we were using to prop up the stay on the pile of stones. I waited in the hole, on the ladder, ready to seize the rope and help pull the pile over the entrance. A gout of flame made Methos stagger back away from me - I climbed up out of the hole in reflex, ready to help.

"Hurry, Methos!" I could not see him for the smoke. There was a cracking sound - the roof of the brew house was burning fast, and as I watched, it collapsed, and a huge beam fell towards us.

"Methos!" I screamed. I saw his white face as he scrabbled on the ground, trying to get away but he was not fast enough, and he disappeared under the blazing wood, and the stones of the building. Behind me, I heard our great pile of dirt and rocks give way and tumble down the tunnel, but I did not care. I ran towards him - "Methos!"

The fire burned so intensely, I could do nothing but huddle back against a wall, staring hopelessly through the acrid smoke, trying to see if there was any sign that Methos was still alive. I could not feel his Quickening, but such was the heat and the confusion that I thought I might miss it anyway. The fire exploded over my head - the very dust was burning - and still Methos' bombs were exploding, deafening me. Flames licked at me, blistering and charring my flesh. I screamed with the pain of it, until the fire burned too deep for pain.

Desperately I ran through the flames to where I thought the pump was, falling and tripping over debris, going purely by memory since I could not see. I fell into the water trough I sought, and immersed myself completely in it. I lay submerged as my deep burns healed agonisingly, the pain re-emerging with the regenerating nerves. My lungs burned too, from the smoke, and I drank from the water greedily. Above me, the smoke still hung heavily in the air, but I was at least away from the flames. Until the fire died down, I could not hope to find Methos, let alone pull him out of the rubble. We were, I realised, trapped more thoroughly now than we were at the beginning of the siege - I only prayed the rest of our people had got away. I could not have borne it if all our efforts had been for naught.

I wished I had my cloak as I got out of the trough - I could have put it around me wet to protect me from the blistering heat that poured from the smoking timbers and from the stones. My cloak, like my sword, was at the bottom of the tunnel entrance, buried and useless to me. We had been too thorough, Methos and I - the place was unrecognisable, with only the castle walls themselves still standing untouched. I stood still, trying to sense Methos. There... but no. A bare flicker. I walked to where I thought I felt him, to where the brew house had stood. Again - a twinge, no more. If he was alive, he was dying, but surely he could not live under the weight of those stones.

"Methos?" I called as loudly as I dared. The brew house had collapsed completely - some of the old bricks had exploded in the heat, and the walls were utterly destroyed. I waited until I felt Methos again and then I began to dig down through the smouldering wreckage. I had to stop over and over to let my blistered hands heal. I wrapped my leather jerkin over my head to try and protect my face and neck from the flying ashes and sparks, and to keep the smoke out of my lungs. It was hopeless - there were at least two massive beams pinning much of the rubble down. If I wanted to get to Methos, I would have to do as we had been doing for four weeks - tunnel.

I searched for anything I could use to dig a space under the rubble - I found a partially burnt bit of timber of the right size and shape that I could scrap the soil away with. Methos' Quickening kept flickering in and out, more out than anything. The stones were still burning hot, and the soil was hard, so I could only dig slowly. I had nothing else I could be doing - I refused to abandon him, and all I could do was wait. If I persevered, I might retrieve him. If I could not, Kronos would eventually breach our defence. I had a faint hope that the Horsemen might decide to leave, but I thought it was unlikely. I no longer cared, for my own sake, since we had achieved what we set out to do - to save all our people. My own well-being was no longer of any importance.

It took me two hours before I had cleared even the smallest path through the rubble, and I really had no idea if I was close to Methos or not. I squeezed under the stones, but could only get half my body's length in. There I was stopped. It was impossible to dig, nor could I move the rubble further. All I could do was explore with my hand and arm in between the stones, in the faint hope of locating the old man. I stopped out of pure exhaustion several times - my arm was scraped raw and I could hardly manoeuvre it in the small space. Suddenly I brushed something with the very tips of my fingers - was it hair?

The idea that I might have actually found him spurred me to stretch and scrabble for those precious two inches which allowed me to seize a little of what I could feel and bring it out of the hole. I eased myself out, carefully holding my prize until I could examine it in the light. And there it was - two strands of long, black brown hair. Methos was there. That thought, that knowledge, broke me down, and I cried like a baby over those tiny scraps. I was so close - but nothing short of a miracle would get him out of that mess. If I left, I could bring back help from the woods - and all our hard, agonising efforts would be a waste of time. If I stayed by him, he would be able to feel my Presence when he woke. If that was all I could do for him, that is what I would do.

It did not stop me trying to enlarge the little tunnel, and another hour's digging dislodged a stone enough that I could get my arm nearly up to the shoulder in the hole where I had found the hair, where before I could reach no further than my elbow. Now I could feel the rest of Methos' head. My hand moved down his back - there was a solid mass across his upper spine. I pulled my hand out and moved my face close to the hole.

"Methos?" I waited until I felt his Quickening again. "Methos, it's Duncan."

Did I fancy that his head moved slightly? His Quickening disappeared so quickly, I was sure I had imagined the slight jerky movement. I had to see if I could enlarge that hole - I needed something more robust than my makeshift shovel. I eased out of the tunnel again and emerged into the burnt wreckage of our former home and prison. I went to the pump and wet myself again, sluicing off the ash and dust, and drinking deeply before searching for something metal - something hard. The hall was destroyed but the kitchen was still recognisable. I sifted through the ashes - saucepans, ladles... a knife, which I laid aside. A spit iron - nearly as strong as a crow bar. Perfect.

I dragged my find back into the hole. I could not hope to free Methos, but I might be able to reach him to touch him, to comfort him. Maybe his agile brain would find a solution to the problem. Anything was better than being alone with his body, unable to see or talk to him.

For hours I chipped patiently at the stones, weakening mortar, and shifting the rubble just enough to ease that rock, or that piece of wood. By late afternoon, I had a hole the size of my head, and with two more hours' work, I could get my head and my shoulder into it. I managed to clear the dirt away from Methos' face - he was pressed cheek down into it, with something heavy above him preventing him turning. Digging under his head more released it a little, and suddenly he gasped. His Quickening hit me like a blow after so long a silence.

"Methos, I'm here." No sound from him. I managed to get my hand in front of his face, and touched his lips which moved. He was trying to speak. "Hush, _mo cridhe_." I could feel how dry his lips were, how cold his skin was.

There was a horrible sound, like a choked screech, and then his Quickening flickered out. Had he tried to call my name with his dying breath - or was that a death rattle? I tried to lever the stones away from his body, but they did not move - he was firmly wedged in. There had to be something I could do for him - otherwise all I was doing was tormenting him with the hope of rescue. My own thirst told me that his was likely ten times worse - if I could give him some water...

I retreated into the outside again - what could I do, or use? The space was so small. I found a small saucepan and filled it with sweet water, then took my shirt off and tore off a bit of the undamaged cloth to make a kind of sponge. It would have to do. I put my jerkin back on to protect my body from the stones of the tunnel and took the pan back to where Methos lay. There was no way I could put the pan next to Methos - no way for him to drink from it if I could. There was barely room for me to rub the liquid soaked cloth over his face and over the cracked lips. When I felt his Quickening stir again, I put the sponge, freshly laden, near his mouth and tried as best I could to dribble some into his mouth. I felt his tongue brush my hand as it quested for the moisture - in the end I just let him suck what he could from the cloth.

"Methos?"

"Duncan..."

If my head was not so close to his, I would have missed the faint whisper. " _Mo cridhe_ , I cannot get you out. Can you move at all?"

"No..." It was a sob. "Oh... God..."

"Love..." I was going to ask if he was in pain, but it was clear he was, just as it was clear he had no breath to answer stupid questions. "Methos, I'm here. I'm going to stay with you."

"No... don't..." The last word exhaled with his last breath, and he died again. I knew what he was going to say. 'Go, leave me.' Well, I would not. Could not. I lay in the tunnel with my hand on his brow, waiting for him to revive.

The pattern repeated over and over. I wiped his face as best I could, and wet his lips. He took a little moisture in, barely enough to damp his mouth. He could only manage a word or two between each death - more often just soft moans - but each revival was shorter than the last. I lost all sense of time in the tunnel. I lay there, talking to him whether he was awake or not, feeding him sips of water, living for those precious few seconds when he was awake again. Not all the moisture on his face was from my cloth, nor were my own eyes dry. We had come so close, so close to freedom, and a life together. Now all we had was sharing his death, but even that little, I wanted.

It was many hours later - it could have been two days or more, I really did not know. He had longed since stopped even trying to speak, and my throat had become too sore to continue. I had left the tunnel twice to relieve myself and get more water, but my world had compressed to just the two of us in that dark, foul smelling space, my hand on the dirty silk of his hair, straining to hear the hoarse sounds as he rediscovered breathing each time. I slept - or passed out - for a while, and when I awoke, he was gasping again, his lips rough as shark skin from dehydration. How long could we last like this? Could an Immortal live forever buried alive? The thought made me want to be sick even to contemplate it.

It was not my choice in the end, to go, or to stay. I felt the new Immortal presence long before a pair of strong hands seized my ankles and dragged me backwards from the hole. Those same hands tangled in my hair and pulled me up, so I was staring into the mad face of Silas.

"Look what I caught, brother!" he roared, and then the tones I remembered so well, with no fondness at all.

"Good work, Silas. Bring him here."

The big man would not let me get my feet under me, even if I could have stood, but instead dragged me to Kronos, flinging me down on the ground in front of him. "Well, what do we have here? The runaway slave? Where is Methos?" he asked.

"Dead," I said. "I killed him to save him from you. That's what started the fire." I stood up.

He punched me across the face. "You? Kill Methos? A child like you?"

"He let me do it." I stared at Kronos. I felt no fear - only a curious elation. This man could do nothing to me any more. He could beat me, torture me, kill me - and I would not care. "He said anything was better than being with you."

I thought he believed me for a moment, but then I sensed Methos' Quickening. With a roar, Silas grabbed my arms and yanked them back, dislocating my shoulders and forcing me to the ground again. Kronos kicked me.

"You lie, slave. I can feel him. Silas - tie the animal up and then take the men and dig."

Silas used his belt to lash my elbows together behind my back, then Kronos pulled me up by my hair. "You cut it, I see, and replaced it with this," giving my beard a harsh yank. "Can't have that. My slaves don't have beards."

There was no need for me to accept his treatment of me passively any more - the only risk was to myself. I struggled and fought with him until he had to call Caspian to subdue me, which he did by sitting on my chest. "Brother Caspian, the slave needs shaving. You always did have a deft hand at this."

Caspian pulled out his knife and seized my beard. I spat at him and fought as best I could. Kronos had to hold my head to keep it still, and at that moment, even as Caspian's knife began to flay my face, part of my mind felt nothing but pity for these creatures. What a waste of an Immortal life - they had spent a month in discomfort and for what? So they could torment one man, and force another to ride with them. Kronos was nearly three thousand years old - and he had not changed a whit in all that time. If I died today - and the part of me that screamed out from the pain of what Caspian was doing prayed that I would do - I still would have lived more fully than either of the men holding me down.

Kronos did not understand my blood spattered smile. "You enjoy that, slave? Perhaps we should have you to join us if you like to suffer."

"You don't know the first thing about me - or Methos - you bloody fool," and I laughed, driving Caspian into a fury, smashing his fists into my healing face. "Is that the best you can do, Horseman? Run out of ideas? I've seen all your tricks, Caspian. You don't frighten me any more." Predictable as snow in winter, he undid his breeches. "Think it will grow back?" I said sweetly. He put his knife to my throat. "And you think I care if you kill me?"

I was getting under the torturer's skin far more effectively than he had mine. "Turn him over," he ordered his brother, and I saw Kronos' eyes narrow in anger at the order.

I let them roll me over. "You can try to fuck me, Caspian. But it won't be your cock I'll be thinking of - you do your worst, and I'll be with someone else entirely." Another blow to the side of my head, making my ears ring. "What's the matter, boy? Don't like competition?"

I waited for a strike that never came - suddenly his weight was off me and Kronos was hissing at him. "He's goading you - can't you see, brother? Go and help Silas if you can't do better than let a slave master your temper!" Kronos turned me over on my back with a kick from his booted foot, then he knelt and dragged my head up. "You may be able to play your little games with Caspian, slave, but I am not so stupid as he."

"No, you're worse. You can't see that Methos is not yours - never will be. And neither am I. You cannot have either of us, no matter what you do. I live and die a free man, Kronos. That's more than you'll ever be able to say."

I laughed at him again - the fury on his face was truly comical, and indeed, I felt carefree, light as air. I would die and there would be an end to his power over me, and his ability to use me to hurt Methos. He was not clever enough to hold his hand forever. None of them were - they were, to a man, more slave to their hellish appetites than I ever was to Cassandra.

"Brother! I've found him!" Silas shouted, and with a curse, Kronos dropped me and ran to where Methos lay. I managed to get to my knees in time to see Silas lift Methos bodily from the wreckage and carry him away to flat ground. Tenderly, the big man held him, and put a water bottle to his lips. Methos drank greedily - too greedily - and vomited it all up again. I heard him moaning from the pain of it - his limbs were still twisted, and I could tell from the way he moved that his spine was still broken. Silas waited patiently until he had healed more, and fed him more water, making him take it slow. As he became more aware of his surroundings, I saw him searching for something - and then he found it, when his eyes fell on me. I knew the pain he would feel as he realised I was captive again - I wished I could tell him not to grieve.

Kronos was impatient. "Let us get out of this cursed place - I am sick of breathing ashes."

Silas carried Methos in his arms to his horse, and mounting it, held my lover in front of him. Methos sat limply and did not resist. Kronos strode over to me and looped a rope over my neck, then attached it to his saddle. He mounted his horse and trotted off, dragging me behind him as he rode out of the castle back to where his men had been camped for a month.

I had almost choked to death before he cut the rope, and I was unable to move for the damage to my body from the short but painful trip. He ignored me as he helped Methos down from Silas' mount. Methos' expression was guarded, but underneath it, I saw the hopelessness. He did not struggle against Kronos' grip as the horseman gripped his arm. "Welcome back, brother. You really are a lot of trouble, you know," Kronos said.

"So kill me and be done with me," Methos said wearily. "Kronos, it is at an end. I will never be part of the Horsemen again - that time is over, I am a different person now. Accept that, or kill me."

"You know, brother, I think you're right. But there have to be four horsemen - it has a certain ring about it, don't you think? So if I kill you, I'll have to take your pretty slave there. But I'm a fair man, I'll give you the choice, Methos - for old times' sake. Your life - or his. You decide."

Methos' eyes flashed to mine. "Kill him," he said without hesitation.

"Methos!" I cried, but not for the reason Kronos thought I did. Methos was sacrificing himself, not me.

" _Tha gaol agam ort,"_ Methos snarled, as if he was rebuking me, and I almost laughed out loud. Even in this, Kronos could not own us.

I played his game " _Tha gaol agam ort-féin, mo cridhe_ ," I shouted back, and spat on the ground. " _Tapadh leat._ "

" _Tha mi duilich, mo leannan_. " he said disdainfully.

Kronos laughed. "So you have not changed that much after all, Methos. Still trying to save your own skin at the price of another's."

"You've had my decision, Kronos. What more do you want?" Methos said, his voice steady if weak.

"Just this, brother," Kronos said, drawing his sword and pressing it into Methos' hand. "You have to do it."

I saw the tremor ripple through Methos, but then he straightened. "All right." Thank you, I thought silently. If I have to give up my Quickening, I want it to be you who has it. "But I want him untied."

"Getting sentimental in your old age, Methos?" Kronos sneered.

"Just do as I say, Kronos," Methos said steadily.

The two men stared at each other, until Kronos jerked his head. "Do it, Silas." My bonds were cut, and I could not help but groan as my injured shoulders swung in the wrong position.

"What have you done, Silas? Put him right," Methos snapped, and to my amazement, he was obeyed. I bit my lip as one shoulder, then the other was roughly, albeit expertly, put back in position. It had not mattered to me, but Methos minded it, so I endured it.

He walked over to me, until he was standing face to face. "Forgive me, _mo cridhe_ ," he said softly.

"Nothing to forgive. Let me have your smile to carry me through." He tried, he really did, but no one could mistake the damp-eyed grimace for anything but the sign of a man in pain. He touched my face. "Make it quick," I said. I love you, I said with my eyes.

He nodded, and put his hand on my shoulder, gently urging me to kneel. I bent my head to give him a clean strike, and I felt his hand brush the hair from my neck. I was ready to die, and all I felt at that moment was sadness for the pain he would feel at doing this. I waited for the blow.

I saw the shadow on the ground as Methos raised his arm, and I closed my eyes. I waited, but nothing happened. I heard a thud, a soft grunt, and another thud. I opened my eyes and looked around - Methos was lying on the dirt, his hand clutching an arrow in his chest.

"Thank... God," he whispered, blood foaming at his lips.

I looked up just as another arrow struck Caspian's horse, and I grinned. I knew then who was behind this. I seized the sword Methos had dropped with one hand, and yanked at the arrow impaling him with the other as I leapt towards Caspian. Kronos was already running back to the castle, and Silas turned and galloped after him. I paid them no mind - I had more than one score to settle with friend Caspian. He grinned at me - no doubt fancying his chances. Behind me, I heard horses racing towards us.

"This is my fight!" I shouted without turning.

"Well, boy, let's see what you've learned. It's been a long time since I took a head," Caspian snarled.

"And it will be longer yet!"

I engaged him and the fight was on. He was fast and strong, and utterly without scruple, not that I played fair with the likes of him. He managed to blood me first, a slice on my cheek, but in the next second he wore a matching mark. I saw the very first sign of fear and pressed home my advantage. His weaknesses were a limited repertoire of moves and a tendency to repeat himself, and I had only to wait until he did so before I attacked. The cut through his spine that removed his head seemed too easy - to kill a monster like that with a single blow did not seem enough. I fell to my knees as his Quickening hit me - a filthy force of his sick desires, memories the pain and terror of his many victims, the crimes he had committed over three millennia, swamping me. I moaned and scrabbled at the dirt, wishing I could escape the surging pain, the sense of being violated.

"Easy, heart, let it go." Arms around me, a beloved voice in my ear.

"Methos," I whispered. "We're alive."

"Yes, we are. We are," he repeated brokenly, then he buried his face in my neck. I could feel him shaking - all we could do was cling to each other while the storm of emotion and past terror flowed through us.

"I love you," I said over and over. "Thank you."

He laid his face against my cheek. "You understood why?"

"Yes - but don't ever do that again." I stroked his filthy hair gently. We were both filthy - blood covered, ash strewn and our clothes singed and burned in great holes. Someone coughed, and I realized we were surrounded by a half dozen of our former comrades. I looked up at Dawson.

"Are you all right, Duncan?" he asked.

"We both are, Joseph. What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

"Saving your hide, boy," Samson drawled with a grin on his face.

I struggled to my feet, dragging Methos with me. "You shot him?"

"No, I did," Dawson confessed.

Methos looked at him sourly. "You are becoming altogether too fond of killing me, old man. But in the circumstances - thank you."

I felt a new Immortal presence and looked about. Richard came forward, a sheepish grin on his face. "When?" I demanded. "And how?"

"Three weeks ago, falling out of the observation tree," he admitted in embarrassment.

"Broke his damn fool neck," Samson snorted. "Then I had to explain it all to him. Wouldn't believe me, oh no - had to wait for friend Dawson to confirm it."

"Well, lad, we have much to teach you. But now, there's someone I have to fight." I stalked off towards one of the horses.

"Duncan!"

I turned. Methos was striding towards me, a borrowed sword in hand. "We do this together."

"Yes. Come on."

Methos swung into the saddle of Kronos' horse, and pulled me up behind him. As we galloped back to the castle, I realized it was late in the day - the sun was casting long shadows and inside the castle, it would be darker. That could be to our advantage - or not. Methos pulled on the reins just outside the gate and hobbled the horse.

"Can you do this?" I asked him.

He straightened up. "You mean physically? I cannot pretend I wish I had had water, food and rest before I did this, but I am ready." He saw my expression. "Or do you mean, can I kill them?"

"They were your brothers for a thousand years. I would understand...."

"You understand nothing, Duncan," he said angrily, keeping his voice low. "They were never my brothers. And if I stood ready to kill you, who I love, I can surely kill a man I hate more than life itself. We are wasting time."

He led the way, Samson's sword in his hand. We could both feel the Presence of two Immortals within the walls, but the place was deep in shadow, the twisted wreckage of the buildings unfamiliar.

"I'll go up on the wall, see if I can spot anything. Watch your head," I said to him. I climbed a ladder and began to walk along the wall, Methos heading in the same direction but on the ground. I saw a movement. "Methos!" I yelled in warning.

He ducked just as the massive axe swung out at him in the gloom. "Silas!"

The giant planted himself in front of Methos. "Come to take my head, Methos? How can you do this to your brothers?"

"I was never your brother, Silas. You don't know me. You never did."

Silas raised his axe, and Methos likewise his sword. "Silas, for the sake of your kindness to me - I give you this chance. Walk away, and we are done with each other. I do not want to fight you."

"You and your bumboy killed Caspian, Methos. We are enemies to the day one of us dies." He swung and Methos dodged.

"Then that day is today, Silas!" he yelled, and returned the strike.

I watched anxiously from the wall, keeping an eye out for Kronos. Silas was more than a match physically for Methos even when my lover was in peak condition - which he was not today. But Methos could move faster, being lighter on his feet and with the less clumsy weapon. Time and again I thought Methos was lost as the fearsome axe sliced through the air, whistling as it went, only to pass through nothing as Methos ducked. For all the reluctance I knew Methos truly felt about killing his brother, there was nothing held back in his attack, and when Silas tripped, he hesitated not at all, cutting the massive neck in half with a single powerful stroke.

Methos caught my eye as the Quickening began, and then he was hurled to the ground by the force of it. Quickenings hurt at the best of times, but Methos seemed to be particularly troubled by this one, whether because of his weak condition, or because it was the Quickening of someone he was fond of in a strange way. His moans were painful to hear, and by the end of it, he was prone on the ground, sobbing. I was about to go down to assist him when a figure walked out of the shadows.

Methos sensed Kronos at the same time I did and weakly lifted his sword arm, only to have his hand stepped on. "Not this day, brother," Kronos sneered.

"Let him go, Kronos," I warned, clambering down the ladder.

I was too late to reach them before he had pulled Methos to his knees, his sword at Methos' long neck. "That's far enough, slave."

"Duncan, do it. I do not want to live under his yoke again," Methos said urgently, then winced as his hair was jerked cruelly.

"Now is that anyway to speak about your old friend, Methos?"

"You are no friend of mine, you piss sodden hyena," Methos said through gritted teeth.

Kronos merely grinned. "You see, slave, what an education does for your vocabulary. Me, I've always preferred to deliver my insults another way." He let Methos' hair go, but then the old man gasped and bent over the knife in his gut.

"Get the hell away from him, Kronos!" I shouted. "Fight me. I swear, if you kill him, I'll take your head while you're down."

"That's not very honourable, is it, Duncan?"

"And what does honour have to do with you, you bastard!" Despite myself, he was making me angry.

"Come to mention it, not a lot." Suddenly he leapt at me.

He was a far better swordsman than his brother, and I was tired already from the day's exertions and by weeks of privation. True to his nature, Kronos liked to weaken his opponent with pain and non-fatal cuts - but he liked it less when the tables were turned. He danced away, holding his gut where I had managed to deliver a long slice.

"Not good enough, slave!" he said with false bravado.

"There's more," I promised, advancing.

He was beginning to tire, but not as much as I was, and my hands were sweaty on the pommel of my opponent's unfamiliar sword. It was now almost dark, and very difficult to see. He was suddenly closer than I realized, and his weapon impaled me through my side. He twisted it as he pulled it out, ripping an enormous wound. I fell to my knees from the pain and weakness, knowing I was lost - I had nothing more in me to give the fight. For the second time that day I waited for a sword to fall, and for the second time, it was my would-be executioner who gasped.

"Methos...," Kronos said weakly, sinking down, trying to clutch the knife in his back.

The old man stepped out behind him and pulled me up. "Finish it, Duncan. Now," he ordered, and I needed no more urging, swinging down, and then collapsing to wait for a Quickening I never wanted.

Methos told me once that he avoided taking heads wherever possible, and today I knew why. Kronos' Quickening was old, powerful, and like him, evil. I felt like to burst from the sensations, my mind more on fire than my body was. I ended up on my hands and knees trying to shake the pain out of my head. Methos knelt beside me, and pulled me close until the last flickers died away.

"Can you can go mad from a Quickening?" I gasped as he sat me back and pushed the hair off my face.

"I have heard such tales, but if you can absorb Kronos, you must have plenty of room inside you, Duncan. Let's get out of here."

It was full dark as we found the horse again and rode wearily back to where we had left our fellows, who were, withal, waiting patiently for us in the moonlight. Samson took the reins. "Lads, you look like you've been ridden hard and put away wet."

"How...?" Methos coughed painfully and tried again. "How long since Dawson and the others got out?"

"Three days. Where have you been?"

"Up to my neck in it," Methos said grimly.

"Samson, we have not eaten in that time," I said somewhat pathetically. "Could we...?" Now the fight was done, I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open.

"Come on, men, there's people waiting for you, and food and drink."

Sounded wonderful. Samson took our reins and led the way. I clung tiredly to Methos' back, savouring the living feel of him even under the layers of dirt - we should have taken the opportunity to wash under the pump but we had wanted to get away from the place of so much torment and death.

"I am glad you did not kill me," I said against his neck.

I felt him chuckle. "I think I can say that I am moderately pleased as well, _mo leannan_."

"You would've...?"

"Yes."

"Good."

We rode for a while longer in silence. I was glad that someone else had the task of finding the way - I was much too tired to think, let alone follow a trail.

"I hated you for a while there," he said quietly, after a long while.

"When? Why?" I asked, dazedly.

"When I was buried... every time I came back to life, and felt you there... for the first few times, I wished you had gone. But then I was glad you were there... your Quickening disappeared a couple of times, and I was so alone. I never minded being alone before - but I did then."

"I could not leave you. I never could. You would not have done."

"I would," he said firmly.

"Liar."

"I swear I would."

"Do not add oath breaking to your sins, old man. I know you better than you know yourself."

"What a terrifying idea," he said dryly. "Samson, when are we ever going to get to this cursed place?"

"Nearly there, milord."

He told the truth. We were met by a throng of happy people bearing torches, looking well and fit. More fit than we were, for certain. Methos swayed dangerously as he slipped out of the saddle, and Richard came and supported him. I knew why he swayed when I got down - it was Samson who helped me as the ground weaved up and down.

"Take it easy, boy. Anyone would think you were drunk."

"I am not, but I would like to be."

"Sorry, boy. But there is a venison roast and beer and fresh bread waiting."

"Bring it on. I hope you have another deer for Methos, because I could eat one whole."

We had been taken to the largest of the four huts, which had become a de facto 'hall' for the group, and where they ate together more often than not. It was a tight squeeze with more than sixty people crammed into it, but only we few were eating. We were treated like honoured guests, which was a little embarrassing. It was worse as Richard insisted on regaling the assembly with the tale of my fight with Caspian, and there was much rejoicing and pointed comment about the defeat, finally, of the Horsemen. Methos kept his face down, eating with a concentration he normally applied to his sword fighting. I caught him smirking and kicked him, but he refused to look at me or anyone else.

I did not let much interfere with my eating - God, I was hungry, and it had been too long since I had eaten fresh food. I realized guiltily that the fifteen new members from the castle would put a strain on the stores of the original group, but when I said as much to Samson, he snorted.

"Do not treat everyone as if they are as simpleminded as you, boy. We know how to hunt, and forage. And now the Horsemen are dead, we can buy more in from our tenants, and look further afield." More gently he added. "You and Methos have done enough, Duncan. You do not have responsibility for us any longer. Rest your weary minds."

Hungry as I was, my weariness in the end defeated my attempt to fill the ravening gap in my stomach. Methos had his chin propped on one hand, and as I watched, his eyes closed and his head slipped. I caught him and pulled him back. "Sorry, Duncan," he murmured.

"Samson, we both need to sleep - have you room for us, or shall we camp outdoors?" To tell the truth, I cared not, so long as we could just sleep together.

"I have been told by no less than a dozen people, boy, that if you suffer one whit of discomfort or lack of hospitality at my hands, I will be wearing my balls around my neck. I have a bed ready for you."

I dragged a protesting Methos upright. "Duncan, I'm still eating, and I have not finished my beer." But even as he spoke, his eyes were falling shut again.

"Come on, old man. You can have your meat tomorrow. Bring your beer."

For warmth and for lack of space, the usual occupants of this house slept in a single room. Samson had spared us a large pallet in the corner that offered no privacy but neither of us cared after where we had spent the last couple of days. What I would have given for a bath and clean clothes, I could not have said, but as I lay down, all I could think of was sleeping safe and free for the first time in a very long time.

"We really are a pair of lilies, MacLeod," Methos muttered.

"If you mean we stink, old man, I could not agree more." I sniffed his dusty, ash-ridden hair. "You worse than me, I think."

He yawned hugely. "Don' care...." He rubbed against my chin. "When did you find time to shave?"

"I didn't."

He stiffened in my arms. "Caspian," he breathed.

"Yes," I said quietly. "It's over, Methos."

He muttered something that sounded like 'perhaps'. Between one breath and the next, he was asleep.

 

* * *

I walk into the tent where Methos is bound between two poles. "Been upsetting the brothers again, I see."

"Define 'upset'," he says defiantly. It is something that always amazes me, how lordly our Methos can be, even blood stained and naked like this.

I grab his balls in my hand and squeeze. He gasps and tries to move away from the crushing pain, but my brothers have done their job well, and he cannot shift more than an inch. "Come on, Methos - you're the clever one. How did you expect them to react when you run away without so much as a kiss goodbye?"

"So if I kiss them, I can leave. All right - bring them on."

I bare my teeth at him - you might call it a smile. "Oh no, little man. It's not that easy."

I drop my hand and grab his chin, forcing his head back and pressing on the nerve points in his jaw. I love the way his eyes get large when he is in pain. "You don't understand," I growl. "No one leaves. Even when you lose your head, brother, you will not leave - I will kill the one who kills you."

"And if... someone... kills you?"

I am surprised he can speak - I am not pressing hard enough. I rectify that, and he hisses with the fresh pain. Lovely - the way the tendons in his neck stick out. I lick them, because I can and he cannot stop me.

"No one will kill me, Methos. I am going to live forever. And so are you, so why don't you stop being a silly bugger and accept it."

I let his jaw go, and he shakes his head and works his jaw. "I will not stay with you. I do not want to live like this any more. I've lost the taste for it."

Fool - he thinks he can persuade me that he is different. I know him - he forgets how well I know him. He forgets that I have seen him run amok in the villages, seen him run the men and the women down and slice them in two with a single stroke. He forgets I've seen him with his slave women, the boys I bring him to service him. And he forgets, every time, that I have more than enough ways of reminding him of his place.

I walk around him, failing to answer his last comment because I know he knows that I do not believe him and never will. "You know, brother, I would have killed you a long time ago but for your lovely body." I run the edge of my knife along his neck, scraping it a little - the blood oozes out before the healing takes over. "Something about your neck, Methos. The thought of it being cut in half... doesn't appeal. You are a work of art."

"I thought you hated art," he says in a strained voice, as I drag the tip of my blade down his spine, and lick the droplets of blood up.

"Oh no, brother. I enjoy art - I love to destroy it. What's so fascinating about you, dear Methos, is that I can destroy the art over and over, and yet every time, it comes back fresh and new. Isn't that wonderful?"

"Utterly," he says dryly.

I walk in front of him, still admiring in the back of my mind, that he is so calm. "You know I have to punish you. I do not know why you keep running. I always catch you, I always punish you, and you always hate it. I don't understand you sometimes, Methos."

He looked at me directly, without fear. "And that is why I need to leave. Let me go, brother. Our time is past, and I am done with it."

His navel is as good a place as any to plunge my knife in, and as I drag it up, slicing through his bowels, cutting his diaphragm so he cannot breathe and begins to choke, I whisper in his ear, "You will be done when I say so, brother, and not before."

I watch the light go out of those bewitching eyes before I pull my knife from him.

I pull up a chair and wait for him to come back to life. Methos hates coming back from the dead - it seems to hurt him more than more Immortals. He particularly hates being knifed, which is why, of course, I do it so often. He looks at me wearily.

"So what will it be this time, brother? The whip? Hot coals - no, wait, we did that last time. And the time before. Knife up the backside? You'll get around to fucking me, so no change there. You see, brother - when you live long enough, even torture is boring."

So much bravado - he is a rare jewel, my Methos. He cannot possibly understand how much I prize him for his ability to tolerate pain, for that unbreakable spirit of his. It is so delicious trying to crush him. No, I can never let him leave.

"No, brother, I have something new which I've been longing to try on you. I knew you would try to leave again - you're getting predictable. One might even say sloppy."

"Ah, I see - you're going to talk me to death."

Bared teeth again - a real smile. "It really will be a pleasure this time, brother. Do you remember, oh, about a year ago, that camp with the Chinese healer in it? The one who took such a lovely long time to die? She had some rather interesting little tools in her tent - I knew as soon as I saw them, that one day I would be able to use them on you. And look - here we are." I showed him the little case. "You know, I believe the woman used them to relieve pain. What a waste. I've been practicing, you know, getting ready for you. I'm getting to be quite the expert."

Ah. Is that a hint of fear at last, brother? "I'm flattered. You shouldn't have bothered, really."

"No trouble," I say cheerfully, extracting the first needle. "But enough talking. I work better without commentary."

I hold his jaw again, and push the long needle through one cheek, and out the other. I know it's pierced his tongue on the way through because I had to work that little bit harder to get it to go in. "Now, brother, that will keep you quiet - unless you fancy tearing your pretty mouth to bits." I push another one down through his top lip into the bottom one - now he cannot open his mouth without hurting himself. That he will not be able to stop himself is all part of my game.

I step back and contemplate where to being - so many points of pain, so little time. Nipples? He is so sensitive there. Yes, I think that's a good place to begin. I pinch and flick the right one until it becomes pebbled, then push a pin through it. He jerks and moans - perfect. I repeat it with the left one, and now a pain tear trickles down his cheek. There are parts of the body where inserting the needle brings relief, even pleasure. I carefully avoid those. Instead I aim for the balls, piercing both with a single needle - if my brother were mortal, I would have rendered him sterile with this, I think. Of course, if my brother were mortal, I would have killed him many years ago. The tip of his beautiful, elegant cock. In a row down the backs of his long legs. The soles of his feet, and between the well-made toes.

He's whimpering continuously now, trying not to scream. I hide a smile - I have only just begun, brother. We have this little game - he pretends I will not break him, and I always do. It would not be half the fun if he gave in easily.

I press two long needles into his stomach, straight into the rich nerves of the bowels, and he groans, and groans again as the involuntary movement of his stomach away from the pain just increases it. I have spent many hours, on many slaves, learning exactly where it hurts the worst - nice to see my hard work paying off. A place over the hip, where the nerves run down the legs and up into the chest - marvellous the effect that has. I pull the ones in his nipples out and push them in again, in another direction. More in the stomach, a couple at the junction of neck and shoulder.

"Amazing, brother, is it not, that such tiny pieces of metal can be so effective. But I do like the old ways best. You know what I mean - where you used to take a red hot brand and shove it into the eyes...." I hold the needle in my hand close to his face and he jerks away. "I wonder what that feels like, hmmm? Messy though - this little fellow is much more elegant, much more... suitable for you, Methos."

I scratch the needle down his chest, which hurts him but also gives him false comfort - he thinks I'm distracted from his eyes. They open wide as I draw close again, and as I hold open the lids of one, he moans, trying to beg me to stop. A waste of his time, of course. "Which is most effective in blinding a person, do you suppose? Straight in through the pupil? Sideways? The eyeball collapses, did you know that? It's most fascinating to watch. Tell you what, why don't I try both, one on each?"

He screams behind his trapped mouth, and as I jab the needle straight in, he tears his lips open. "Nuhhh! Sthop!"

"Tut, tut, Methos. You've made yourself all messy."

I lick his bloody chin. I force the lids open on the other eye - he fights me, so I push on the pins in his gut. Then I shove the needle into his eyeball, and as I promised, it collapses. "What's it like, brother? Being blind? Not knowing if you can heal from this? Not knowing how long I will leave the needles in? I can leave them in for a very long time you know. That would be fun - a blind Horseman. Do you think you can learn to ride a horse that way?"

"Pleash," he begs. His head is sagging from weariness and agony - I lift it and kiss his torn lips around the needle.

"Oh yes, brother. I will please you," and as he cries tears out of his ruined eyes, moaning as he weeps, I take him from behind, tight and hot and so, so beautiful....

 

* * *

I woke with a start, feeling sick to my stomach, and nauseated even more to find I was hard. Was that me in the dream, doing that to Methos? Had it ever happened? I realized I was alone - Oh God, had Methos known...? I had to find him. I pulled on my clothes, and took the blanket as well, since I was cold. I picked my way out across the sleeping bodies into the main room. Richard was asleep in front of the fire which gave the only light in the room, and Samson lay on a pallet with Alison in his arms. "He's outside, boy," he whispered.

"Thank you. Have you a lantern?" I heard him fumbling and then he handed me one. I lit it with an ember from the fire, and went out, the blanket wrapped across my shoulders. He was nowhere close - I could not sense him.

"Methos!" I hissed quietly, but the only sounds were the normal night forest ones. I followed the little path a way, and felt him. I found him sitting with his back against a big oak tree, an unlit lantern by his side.

"Go back to bed, Duncan," he said wearily.

"Not without you - what are you doing out here?"

It was colder than it had been of late, and I sat beside him without invitation and shared the blanket over his shoulders. He made no move to get closer.

"I just wanted to be alone. Go back."

"Methos... did you... I mean... I had a dream...." For the first time, he turned toward me. "I think it was about Kronos... and you... he was hurting you. With needles." I felt him tense up. "It wasn't me - did I do anything, in my sleep, I mean?"

He let out a breath. "No, Duncan, you did not. I've been out here for a while - I didn't know you were having a nightmare. I couldn't sleep - it has been a difficult day."

Quite the understatement, I thought - Methos had been buried alive, come within a second of killing me, and then the three people in the world he had known for the longest time all died. Even if they were who they were.

"Was it real? Did he do that to you?"

He did not answer for a very long time. "Yes," he said finally. So much pain in one little word.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean..."

"He kept me blind for six months, did you know that? My hands were tied behind my back the entire time, and I was led around like a dog, fed and washed like a child. He kept all the other needles in as well - he only took the one out of my mouth so I could eat, then he would put it back."

"Methos, you don't have to tell me..." I said, my stomach roiling anew at the images my mind had forced on me - that Kronos' Quickening had dredged up.

"It was Silas who saved me. He always did. Kronos or Caspian would do their worst, and Silas would take care of me. It was him who led me around, fed me, looked after me. He would not take the needles out, because it was Kronos' wish that they remained, and he never questioned Kronos. But apart from that, he treated me with the greatest kindness. I owed him a lot. And I murdered him."

" _Mo cridhe_ , he was a killer - you know what he did to our women."

"Nothing more than I have done a thousand times, Duncan. Silas was not a good man, or a bad one- he had absolutely no idea of good or bad, right or wrong. He did what he was told by Kronos, and he was totally loyal to all of us - even Caspian, who frightened him and annoyed him. He killed without discrimination when he was told it was necessary, and he cared for me because he was told too, and because I was his brother. He loved animals, he never hurt anyone for pleasure - he was better than me in so many ways. In another time, if he had never met Kronos - he might have been a farmer, lived a quiet normal life. We took that away from him. It was not his fault he was as you knew him."

"He was going to kill you. You had no choice."

"I am not a child, Duncan, please do not treat me like one," he said sharply. "I know it was necessary. I just.... owe him more. " He stood up, picking up the lantern and quickly lighting it from mine.

"Where are you going?"

"To bury a friend." He strode off.

"Methos! It's the middle of the night." He did not turn or look my way at all.

I debated whether to go after him. He had made it clear this was something he had to do, and I felt he wanted to be alone. Reluctantly, I decided to wait until morning before going after him. I took myself back inside to try and sleep. To my surprise, I succeeded for a time, but Methos' absence kept waking me up. By sheer application of will power, I managed to stay still until first light, but then I woke Samson up.

"I have to go back to the castle. Methos is down there. Have you got any spare clothes - ours are ruined."

He grumbled a fair bit but produced what I asked for. "Are you coming back, boy?"

"I really don't know, Samson. You said yourself - you do not need us any more."

He seemed surprised that I would take him so literally. "We owe you everything, Duncan. Why would you think we would not want you to stay?"

"The truth is you do not need us, and I was brought here against my will, as was Methos, even more so. We want to be able to choose our own path."

"And that will make you happy, Duncan?" He looked at me shrewdly.

"I do not know, Master Samson. But what I do know is that the man I love is down at the castle grieving over a dead friend. I have to go to him. Whether or not we come back is in his hands. I owe him that much."

"You'll be back," he grunted, and without further ado, he climbed back into bed with his betrothed. Stung a little by his complacency, I took the clothes he offered as well as some food and a water flask and found where Kronos' horse had been tethered. I half expected to find Methos wandering lost in the forest, and realized I was indeed doing what he accused me off. The man was over four thousand years old. He could find his way out of a forest in the dark if he chose.

The day was fair and bright, and it was good to be alive. I remembered Methos' words of long ago when all I sought was freedom through death. I would have regretted not being alive to see this day, he was right. Now, if I could only persuade him to let me go with him, if that was his choice....

The ruin of the castle seemed even more complete in the bright sunshine, and I wondered if we had been too hasty in what we had done. But no, we had delayed Kronos entering the castle for more than a day, and our people were safe - that was good enough. Methos was not in the castle grounds, so I rode out a little way past it. I found him sitting on the ground beside a shallow grave, his head on his raised knees. The state of him showed he had dug the grave with his bare hands. He looked up at my approach, and my heart contracted at the sight of his dirty, tear stained and utterly weary face. I dismounted, knelt beside him and put my arms around him. He leaned on me heavily and I stroked his hair. "Do you feel better now, heart?" I asked him.

"Not much," he confessed, and then his composure collapsed. He wept hard as I held him, trying to warm the cold skin, trying to ease the shaking sobs. Little by little he calmed down, his breathing evened out, and eventually he pushed himself off me almost angrily, his eyes still dripping tears of exhaustion and grief.

"What is about you, MacLeod, that makes people depend on you? It's a dangerous thing for an Immortal."

"Funny, I was wondering the same about you, Methos. I never needed to be with anyone as much as I need to be with you. And there are sixty people back in the woods beshitting themselves with fear that you will desert them."

"What rubbish, Highlander," he scoffed. "They do not need either of us now."

I wiped the tears from beneath his eyes with my thumbs, massaging his cheekbones a little. "Let's talk of it later. I have food and clean clothes for you - which do you want first?"

"A wash," he confessed. I pulled him up onto the gelding and we rode slowly into the castle. "Do you think they will rebuild?" he asked.

"Do you think they could?"

"Oh yes, and to good effect. The walls are sound, and they do not need such a grand structure as was here. They could improve it.... They can do what they like, it's none of my concern," he said angrily, sliding off the horse and heading for the pump.

He stripped bare and I pumped water over him. We had no soap or cloths, but he got most of the dirt off him, shaking himself like a dog to dry himself.

"My turn," I said and he manned the pump for me.

The water was icy, but it was good to be clean. The only clothing we kept was our boots, and we rode out of the castle on the horse naked, lying down on the grass until we were dry. We were fortunate the sun shone, but it was too cold to be nude for long. Soon I would need to replace my lost cloak. We were without money or resources now, unless we returned to the group - we could sell the horse, I supposed. I broke out the food and we ate in silence. Methos was still very tense, and his mouth was drawn down in misery. He sat at a little distance from me, his body telling me of his need for separation.

"What will you do now?" I asked him quietly, since he was not inclined to volunteer any information.

"I do not know, and that is the simple truth, Duncan."

"What were you doing before...." I realized he had never told me how he came to be in the slave trader's hands.

"Before I was kidnapped and sold as a slave to Cassandra? I was a scholar. Married to a kind, rich and very ugly widow in Heidelberg. She probably thinks I'm dead now."

I was shocked at this - he had a life, a home... a future. "Won't you go back? You only have to reappear."

He shook his head, and grimaced as the wet hair flapped in his face. He grabbed it and tied it in an untidy knot. "No. Maria will have married again, I have no doubt. Besides... I am not the same person who left. Too much has happened, I have changed. You have changed me, curse you," he said without heat.

"You regret it," I said flatly.

"Life was simpler before, yes, Duncan. I had not taken a head in two hundred years, and my only concern was myself. Now you look at me with those big brown eyes, and our friends in the woods want our help... the temptation to cut and run is great, you have to admit. What about you? You must surely miss Scotland - what is keeping you from leaving?"

"If you have to ask, your feelings for me cannot be very deep, Methos." I stood impatiently and walked about to warm myself. I did want to go home. I did want to go back to Dawson and the others. And I did want to stay with Methos. Why could all these things not be possible at once? I walked back to him. He was staring at the ground. "You are going to leave."

"Is that a statement or an order?" he asked calmly. I refused to answer him. "Yes, all right. I am going to leave. Duncan, I have said all along - I have no place at all here. Now, do you need the horse, because I could do with it?"

"Do what you want, take what you need," I said gruffly, walking back toward the woods. I did not want to watch him ride away, did not want to say goodbye to him - did not want to admit that this was the end for us. I heard the hooves pound away, getting fainter, and I walked grimly on in the opposite direction. The day did not seem so fair after all.

 

* * *

Samson was surprised to see me again, and greatly disappointed that Methos had left. Dawson was even more dismayed than Samson. It was not that they thought they would not survive without Methos, but the old man had vastly underestimated his place in these people's affection - as he had done his place in mine, or so it seemed. I felt I had to stay - there was Richard to train and introduce to the ways of Immortals, there were plans for the future. The general feeling was that the castle should be rebuilt on a smaller scale, and a nominal lord chosen - they offered the position to me, and I refused it point blank, suggesting Samson and his lady instead, or Richard and Maya if Samson was thought to be too old.

The keep was still a rich one, and well managed, would support all who remained. The prospects looked good - so why was I so despondent? I had known for a long time that Methos was unlikely to stay. The fact I remained was somewhat to be remarked at as well. The simple fact was that once I departed north, my link with Methos was lost. If I could not have the man, I wanted his keep his legacy at least.

I felt guilty at being so morose and did my best to put my hand to whatever needed doing. When Methos had been gone two weeks, Alison came and sat next to me as I was scraping a deer hide. "How dost thou, Duncan?"

"Well, maid. You?"

"Well enough." For some unaccountable reason she blushed, and I took another look at her. Plump cheeks, blooming colour, slight roundness...

"You are with child?"

She nodded, still blushing. "It's your fault, of course."

"Me?" I gasped in mock horror, knowing exactly what she meant. "I am truly pleased for you - the first freeborn child from that keep in a thousand years."

"I have been so happy, Duncan - I know that is wrong, when we have been in so much danger, but I love Samson, and I have done things that I would never have dreamed of, if it were not for you and Methos. I am sorry he has gone."

"You and me both, lass," I said heavily. With a sigh, I laid my work aside. "This is childish of me, I know. I bore Kronos' cruelty more easily than this."

"It cuts just as deep as any knife, Duncan. Have you no friends, no family to go back to?"

"Not any more, Alison." Suddenly I wished she would go away, and I knew why Methos had wanted to be alone with his pain. "I think that I left a trap uncleaned. I want to check it. Excuse me."

I stood and began to walk away. "Duncan!" I ignored her. "Duncan! Look!"

I turned just as I felt an Immortal presence. A man leading a brown horse walked towards us. "Methos?" I stood still, not wanting to betray my eagerness.

"Greetings, Alison, MacLeod," he said sunnily. "Where is everyone?"

I was furious with him. "Where were you, Methos? Why did you come back?"

His face was the picture of abused innocence. "Why should I not? Help me unload the horse."

I was too stupefied by his attitude to help, so Alison helped him take the heavy pack off the animal and lay it on the ground. "What is it?" she asked.

"Treasure, maid," he said conspiratorially, and she giggled. "Clothes for the Highlander and myself, some supplies, the rest of the gold. New swords for me, and thee and Richard, Duncan..."

"Enough, old man! What the hell are you whittering on about? Gold? Swords? Have you turned your hand to robbery?"

"Don't you mean, 'robbery again', Duncan? I hid a store of gold in the castle grounds for such a contingency - I dug it up and went to purchase us the necessities in town. Why - did you think I had left you?"

I seized him by his bony shoulders and shook him like a terrier does a rat. "You know damn well I thought you had, you bloody insolent creature!"

"Language, Highlander," he said demurely, casting his eyes at Alison who was trying not to laugh. "I said I would stay as long as I was needed - you said you needed me. Have you changed your mind again?"

"You... you are the most impossible, contrary, annoying pain in the arse God ever cursed the earth with!" I shouted.

"I'll take that as a 'no', shall I? Alison, what say you? Does he want me to stay, do you... urk..."

I stop the flow of banter very simply by applying my lips to his. "Shut up, old man."

"Yes, Duncan."

"And tell me you will stay."

"Yes, Duncan."

"For how long?"

"While there are mortals here, I will stay. Unless you tell me to leave. Tell me again that you love me."

"Yes, Methos." I kissed him again. " _Tha gaol agam ort._ But I should beat your skinny bum for this last fortnight and what you put me through."

"Mortification is good for the soul."

"Yours or mine?"

"Oh, yours, definitely. I am beyond saving."

"But not beyond beating." I had not released him, and kissed him again. "Come, old man. There are one or two people who may be somewhat pleased at your return, poor deluded fools that they are."

I would try, and likely fail, to determine whether he had intended to come back all along, but it did not matter. Whether he stayed or he went, I would be with him this time. Once I had prayed for a merciful Death - God, in his kindness, had finally granted me one, and I intended to hold onto him.

**Author's Note:**

> A Gaelic glossary
> 
> "A bheil Gàidhlig agat?" [Do you speak Gaelic?]
> 
> "Tha, beagan, mo cridhe." [A little, my love/heart]
> 
> "Tha gaol agam ort. " [I love you]
> 
> "Tha gaol agam ort-féin. " [I love you too]
> 
> "Pog mohone" [Kiss my arse]
> 
> Mo leannan - [my lover]
> 
> Mo cridhe- [my heart]
> 
> "Tha mi duilich" - [I'm sorry.]
> 
> "Ciamar a tha thu? " [How are you doing?]
> 
> "Tha gu math" - [I am well]
> 
> * * *
> 
> This story was written nearly twenty years ago under another pseudonym. It hasn't been revised (or reread by me) since then.
> 
> I am posting this and my other stories from this period purely so people can read them if they choose. I won't be reading comments, and don't care if you leave kudos. I'm dumping them and running.
> 
> Having said that, I worked hard on them, and I hope they still entertain someone out there.


End file.
